


Of Wolves and Witchcraft

by Rhydeble



Series: Of Wasps and Wizards [1]
Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 72,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23616310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhydeble/pseuds/Rhydeble
Summary: Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden is a Wizard and a Parahuman, pretending to be a Wizard that's pretending to be a parahuman. While investigating a case involving shapeshifting murderwolves, he meets a young bug-controlling refugee from Brockton Bay, a witness to the case. Together, they set out a trap for their enemies, and uncover their plans.Part 1 of Of Wasps and Wizards
Relationships: Harry Dresden/Susan Rodriguez
Series: Of Wasps and Wizards [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1699945
Comments: 12
Kudos: 40
Collections: Best crossovers, Completed Gen Recommendations





	1. Welcome to Chicago

For the first time since the great failure, I walked the streets in costume again. Only instead of Brockton Bay, it was Chicago.  
  
The buildings were higher, the city was bigger, and the insect population was slightly different. Instead of abandoned buildings, there were shady apartments. Instead of Armsmaster leading the Protectorate, you had Revel. Instead of everyone talking about Assault and Battery being sisterwives, or Dauntless being a future Triumvirate member, people gossiped about Myrddin.  
  
Myrddin… the one parahuman doing the wizard thing that actually made it work. I still wondered why the PRT allowed it. Didn’t they think it was bad PR or something like that?  
  
It was hard not to see the man’s influence on the city. Even though he’d only been part of the Protectorate for a few years, he was by far one of the most popular capes around. I could kind of understand that, having seen him in action against Leviathan.  
  
When Legend had given his speech, talking about parahumans being tolerated because they fought stuff like Leviathan, I’d been skeptical. That had changed when I saw all the people that had shown up. It wasn’t just official heroes, there were villains too. That, and people that probably didn’t fit anywhere on the spectrum. Even Rogues like Parian used their powers for something and had a costume. During the Leviathan fight, I’d seen people hidden by nothing but a plastic domino mask throwing themselves at the beast with nothing but a sword.  
  
Whatever, all of that didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to be a villain again. Not that I was going to join the fucking Protectorate, or the Wards. Not after what they had done. But I wasn’t going to be a villain. I’d never wanted to be one anyway…  
  
I just really missed my friends.  
  
I hadn’t taken twenty steps through the alleyway when I found my first crime. A purse snatching. It had happened about a block away in the middle of a busy street.  
  
Well, that was a lot easier than fighting Lung had been. Hopefully it wouldn’t end the same way either.  
  
I marked both perp and victim with a fly, and send my gathered swarm through the alleyways. Then, as the thief was about to turn the corner and get out of sight, he was met by one of my new swarm-clones. I’d first used them to try and trick Leviathan, but they would work here as well.  
  
He said something, but I had no idea what. It was loud though, and his body movements were getting panicky. He’d probably never heard of me, I was just some girl from an unknown team in a different city. He just knew that a biblical plague descending upon him wasn’t something that he wanted to happen to him.  
  
I put my attention on the swarmclone, and gestured, pointing at the purse the man had stolen. Within a second, the man had dropped the bag, and went to his knees, I thought he was praying.  
  
I made the swarm-clone ignore him, and had it engulf the bag, and slowly started carrying it towards its owner.  
  
The people in the street, of course, started screaming and yelling at the sight of a few bugs, and when the swarm dropped the bag at its owner’s feet, she was afraid to touch it.  
  
Great… I helped someone out, did a good deed, and now they’re freaking out about a couple of bugs.  
  
Oh well, you couldn’t have everything.  
  
Quickly, before the Protectorate could react and do something stupid, I took off my costume, and changed back into my normal clothes. I was still wearing the silk under my pants, but the armour was now in my backpack again. Then, I made my way to the shopping street where ‘ _Skitter_ ’ had stopped a purse snatcher, found a coffeeshop nearby and waited for the Protectorate response safely drinking tea in a cosy chair.  
  
The response wasn’t as interesting as I’d hoped it would be. A PRT van arrived with less than a full squad of troopers, who took statements from witnesses, trying to puzzle out what had happened. For just a second, I tried hearing through my bugs again, but it still gave me a headache. I knew it had to be possible, I just didn’t know how.  
  
Once both troopers and tea were gone, I made my way back to the apartment building slash refugee housing they’d put me in, and made my way to my room.  
  
I’d told them I was eighteen, and the local management had decided that it would be safer to put the eighteen year old girl that was all on her own in a smaller, private room.  
  
At least it wasn’t as bad as the emergency camp had been. Here, I only had to share my shower with seven different families.  
  
The real problem of course, would come when they figured out that I’d given them an age that was three years higher than it actually was. Which they would. Sure, it was total chaos right now, but I had no doubt in my mind that they would figure it out in time, and at that point, they would put me away in an orphanage or something like that somewhere.  
  
Now that would really make it hard to actually do anything worthwhile… at least I wouldn’t meet Emma there.  
  
Heh… Emma. It felt weird to think about her. I didn’t even know for sure, it was still a one in ten chance that she’d survived, but it felt a lot better to just assume the trio was finally out of my life. Even if they had survived, what was the chance that they would come to Chicago? Let alone that I would meet them here?  
  
The refugees had been spread far and wide in order not to put too much pressure on any one location, with some luck, if any of them had survived, they would be in San Francisco or something, all the way on the west coast.  
  
I made my way past the single guard at the front, flashing him my tiny plastic card, and walked past the common area, in which people were discussing enthusiastically around a computer screen.  
  
“Something interesting?” I asked.  
  
A few of them turned around. One of the guys, Leon, he had three children and a dead wife, responded.  
  
“They finally released the names of the fallen capes, we’re figuring out who survived and who didn’t,” he said.  
  
I joined them, only slightly interested. Cape stuff just… it felt so empty and strange, after knowing what it was really like.  
  
Seeing the list, I scanned it for the names of the deceased. None of Faultline’s crew, she’d apparently been out of town in a job. Most of the Nazis were dead, although Purity, Crusader and Fog had apparently managed to make it out. I spotted Oni Lee’s name too, suddenly remembering about his existence. Strange, to think that the ABB was now completely gone. Not so strange, if you thought about the fact that the entirety of Brockton Bay was gone.  
  
I looked further, and tears started welling up in my eyes.  
  
_Tattletale - Sarah Livsey_  
  
Strange, that she’d decided to use a fake name, even with her friends. If we even were her friends… We had been friends, right? She hadn’t just been manipulating me, using my power for her own ends?  
  
I wiped away the tears, trying to find the rest of my old team. The team I’d abandoned, hours before they’d died.  
  
_Hellhound - Rachel Lindt_  
  
Rachel’s name was the next one I found. I’d been looking under the B, but apparently, the PRT wouldn’t even honour her chosen name in death. How the fuck they got away with calling themselves heroes, I didn’t know. It was all bullshit anyway.  
  
I idly wondered about what had happened to her dogs. Had they all died too? The last time I’d seen them, shortly after Rachel’s death, Judas had been carrying an unconscious Glory Girl, bringing her to the top of a building where she’d be safe, at least for a while.  
  
Alec was the next one I found. They’d used his new cape name, but the old real one. Jean-Paul Vasil.  
  
It still felt weird, knowing one of Heartbreaker’s children. He’d been… not what I’d expected. Not evil. Sure, he could be a dick, needlessly needling people, but he’d already come so far that it was hard to blame him for that.  
  
The last name I found was Brian’s. Grue, Brian Labourn. Briefly, I wondered if his sister had made it out. Probably not, the chance was low, and I hadn’t seen her coming out of the shelter.  
  
It was ridiculous. Gladly was allowed to survive, and my friends had to die.  
  
“See anyone you know?” Leon asked.  
  
“It’s just… I mean… wait, Rory Christner?” I replied, I knew that name from somewhere. How would I know Triumph?  
  
“Christner? Where?” someone asked.  
  
“Triumph…” I replied, pointing at the line of the paper.  
  
“Isn’t that the mayor’s son?” the person asked. A few others nodded and replied in the affirmative.  
  
I kept looking through the list… trying not to think about the fact that the mayor and the PRT were so closely connected. It made sense, in a way. The Protectorate was led by an incompetent asshole, and if my father had been correct, so was the city itself.  
  
Finally, my eyes fell on Shadow Stalker’s name. I still remembered her death. Friendly fire, some out-of-town villain had thrown lightning at Leviathan, right through her breaker state.  
  
_Shadow Stalker - Sophia Hess_  
  
Sophia… Sophia had been Shadow Stalker, a ward, a hero…  
  
I wish I could’ve gotten angry, could’ve shouted in righteous fury, but all I could think of was that bloodcurdling scream… She’d been a horrible person, but at least she’d died with honour? Something like that?  
  
Trying to handle that piece of information, I left the room, and headed for bed. My room was small. A bed, a nightstand with a lamp, a few books I’d gotten from the library.  
  
I started drifting away, trying not to think about my former team, my friends… Sleep did not come easily.  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
It had been four days since I’d gone out in costume again, and I hadn’t worn it since.  
  
Why? Because I didn’t need it, and because I didn’t want anyone to see me. Everyone probably still thought of me as a villain, and I was pretty sure I couldn’t handle someone like Myrddin or Revel in a one-on-one fight, let alone what would happen if there was more than one of them.  
  
In addition to that, It also helped me keep safe from actual villains. They might be able to beat my bugs, but that wouldn’t help them if they couldn’t find me.  
  
So instead of walking around in a silly mask and a silk outfit, I’d spend these last few days installing myself in cafés and coffeeshops, relaxing and reading while my bugs scouted the surrounding area for crime.  
  
Although… what I really did was more like training, trying to use the bugs to explore the city, figure out what was what, using more and more of their senses. I’d managed to figure out how to have at least some vision, although it was strange and not all that reliable. I could see contrast between dark and light, but it was nothing like my own eyes.  
  
The sounds too, I was getting better at. Or at least, identifying tone of voice. Individual words were almost impossible to make out, but I could figure out when someone was talking, whether they were shouting or not, that kind of thing. It helped, since I just needed to figure out when someone sounded scared in order to identify possible crimes.  
  
Today however, I wasn’t just waiting for something to happen on the streets and in the alleyways. Instead, I’d discovered an interesting titbit of information about the local villains.  
  
They had some sort of drug storage here. I had no idea what, but it had an effect on some of the bugs, and the people working with it were almost completely naked. It seemed like it came straight out of some sort of crime drama on TV.  
  
Problem was, I had no idea whose lab it would be. I wasn’t very familiar with the local villain groups, only indirectly knowing some of them. Local crime was weird, at least in comparison to Brockton Bay, although that may have just been my point of reference being all fucked up. There were even rumours that one of the gangs wasn’t even led by a parahuman. I had no idea how that could happen, why hadn’t one of his lieutenants up and decided to murder the guy and taken his place? It was probably one of those shitty PHO rumours that went about.  
  
So, I spent a few hours, observing the drug lab three buildings over with my bugs, when to my surprise, I saw several men systematically moving towards the apartment, holding on to guns.  
  
I wondered what it was, and cursed my lack of information. A rival gang? Traitors in the ranks? The police? They didn’t look like cops to my bugs, but it was hard to make out.  
  
I decided to wait, and keep my swarm in reserve. I didn’t want to interfere with a police operation, but if it came down to a fire fight, I needed to move quickly in order to minimize collateral damage.  
  
The men moved closer, and I noticed that one of them was a woman. Eventually, they stopped in front of the apartment holding the drug lab. One of them fiddled with something, and half a second later the door’s lock was busted, and they entered the room, shouting.  
  
I really hoped they were shouting something along the lines of “Police, you’re under arrest!”  
  
Most of the people inside reacted slowly, stopping what they were doing and putting their hands in the air.  
  
I noticed I’d been holding my breath for the duration of the operation, and exhaled just as I noticed someone coming out of a door, sneaking up on the cops.  
  
I called on my swarm, sending them into the apartment, out of the walls, but it was too late. The man moved forward with a ridiculous speed, and his hands reached through one of the cops, who screamed out in pain.  
  
A cape… They’d had a cape in reserve. How the fuck did I miss that?  
  
The cape’s victim fell on the flour, shouting in pain, trying to reach for something at his belt. As were the other cops.  
  
As my swarm started entering the apartment from all possible entrances, the few bugs I already had inside sensed something strange.  
  
The cops were capes too, I realized, as all four of them activated a changer ability. Their limbs started twisting, their clothes bursting, and my bugs could feel hair growing on their skin. Within seconds, they were more like wolves then men, and I felt the hurt man rush forwards, jumping on the criminal cape.  
  
As I struggled to understand what happened next, the changers started tearing through the assembled people, tearing through their flesh.  
  
I didn’t need to think for long, and send my swarm into attack mode. They may have been criminals and drug dealers, but nobody deserved to be torn apart like that.  
  
The swarm bit and tore at the changer-cops, but they weren’t as effective as I’d hoped. It felt like they had some sort of low-level regeneration, or something else that was protecting them.  
  
But while my attack wasn’t that effective, it still spooked the changers, which almost immediately started fleeing by jumping out of the window, landing on the streets outside. From there, they ran between the assembled crowds, quickly leaving my range.  
  
Back inside the apartment my bugs tried to figure out just exactly what had happened.  
  
The cape, the one that had attacked the cops/changers/murderers, was lying in a pool of blood, dead. In much the same manner, a few of the assembled thugs and helpers had been slain. The others, the one that I had been able to safe, were running around like madmen, trying to evade the bulk of my swarm.  
  
I moved my army, using them to block off the windows and the door, and waited for the Protectorate to arrive. Outside, on the side of the building, I used part of my swarm to write something on the wall:  
  
‘ _Call 911, 7 wounded survivors, several armed men.’_  
  
In the meantime, I tried not to act suspicious, and walked to the bar to order more tea. The entire situation had attracted an audience, which was, in some ways, rather nice, seeing how the onlookers included what had, just seconds ago, been a massive line.  
  
As I sat back down and grabbed my book again, some shitty post-apocalyptic teenage romance bullshit from Aleph. It was a good timewaster, if nothing else.  
  
Outside, I noticed that the Protectorate had responded. This time, it wasn’t just a small squad gathering information. I noticed Revel, the leader of the local Protectorate, joined by the tall and crazy Myrddin, the even taller Campanile, and Tecton, the leader of the wards.  
  
As they approached, Revel started flying, heading for the broken windows through which the changers had escaped. As she approached, I made my swarm retreat, giving her a full view of the people inside. She called something out, and the rest of the heroes entered the building. As they approached the door in question, I scattered my swarm, sending them out into the walls again. Only a few of them remained in the apartments, watching what was going on, feeding me information.  
  
Half a minute later, the heroes were joined by paramedics, who started treating everyone in inside.  
  
Half an hour later, most of them were gone again. Tecton and Campanile had escorted the prisoners, Revel was with the ambulance, and Myrddin was left alone, standing in the former drug lab.  
  
He reached into his robe, grabbing some sort of strange tools and waved around his arms, using his powers. I kind of started to understand why he pretended to be a wizard, his powers were most certainly weird enough. Or maybe he was legitimately insane, and the hand waves and ‘spells’ were just unnecessary theatrics  
  
Then, all of a sudden, after he’d inspected the claw marks on the floor, he started talking to himself. He wasn’t even mumbling, just talking to the room as if there was anyone there, asking questions, getting annoyed when no-one replied. I really wondered what he was talking about. Was he just crazy? Did he have an invisible teammate?  
  
Suddenly, Myrddin swung around his staff a little, and I felt something strange on my bugs. Like they were… well, I really had no way to describe the feeling, but they were lighting up a little?  
  
Wait, had he been talking to me? I moved my bugs around, placing them on the floor in front of him, spelling out a sentence: _‘can’t hear you, can’t speak,’_ they spelled out.  
  
That seemed to satisfy him somewhat, and the strange feeling on my bugs stopped. He waved around some more with his hands, staff, and a pendant around his neck, after which he decided to leave. After he’d left the room, he spoke to some of the police officers standing outside, who started to secure the site, gathering evidence.  
  
An hour later, I left, making my way back to the shelter in time for dinner.  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
The following morning, I left again, trying to stay away from the useless drama that tended to accompany whatever the rest of the people there did all day. On my way out, Leon noticed me, and told me about a notice from the main office in Chicago. They wanted to talk to me at ten in the morning. So, in about half an hour.  
  
Oh great… that probably meant they’d figured out I wasn’t as old as I’d told them I was.  
  
I’d have to report in, they’d send me to some kind of crazy orphanage or whatever, force me to go to some fucking bullshit school again, try to get someone to adopt me…  
  
Or, I could just do what I did yesterday, and buy myself some more time that way. That sounded like a much better idea.  
  
I walked through the city for a while, lost, and wondering what to do. Almost subconsciously, my bugs went to work, scouting out the area around me, tagging people on the back of their heads, telling me where everyone and everything was.  
  
Chicago was no Brockton Bay, but that didn’t mean it was entirely safe, just that most of the supervillains were less serious about the whole ‘take over the city’ thing. No Coil here, at least not that I knew. Probably still some kidnapping assholes drugging children.  
  
I wondered if Dinah had made it out… probably not. At least I could be pretty certain that Coil was gone too.  
  
The weirdest thing about Chicago however, was that from what little research I’d been able to do, it seemed like quite a few of the villains took inspiration from Myrddin. There was a group of them pretending to be vampires, rumoured to be busy in the sex industry, using their dark allure and shitty romance novels to lure in horny idiots. The press took that kind of stuff, and ran away with it.  
  
To make my point for me, I came across a newspaper stand selling papers with images from yesterday’s fight on the frontpage. Or rather, a shitty picture of the wolves, and a better one of my bugs. Out of curiosity, I bought it, using the money I’d been able to smuggle out of my supervillain account.  
  
The Midwestern Arcane, the title read. Apparently, it was a local tabloid, going by the general tone of the paper, it seemed to be aimed at people that, like Myrddin, believed in magic.  
  
The wolves hadn’t been changers, no, they had been werewolves. Didn’t matter that it hadn’t been a full moon, magic didn’t work that way according to the writer of the article.  
  
Strangely enough, the article also claimed that the bug controller was, in fact, not me at all, but rather the ghost of an exterminator that had died on the job, protecting people even in death. I had a small, private laugh about that. The proof, according to the writer, some lady called Susan Rodriguez, was in the swarmclones. You see, back in Brockton Bay, this “Skitter” person had been a villain that send her bugs around personally. The bugs in Chicago however, often formed together in a phantom body, which could be explained by the fact that the spirit of the exterminator (she’d latched on to someone called Billy) desperately wanted to have a real body again. Plus, he was acting as a vigilante, helping people, which obviously meant it couldn’t be this Skitter person.  
  
The fact that Skitter had survived Leviathan’s attack, and not been spotted anywhere else, well that was just horribly inconvenient, and could be ignored.  
  
I went through the rest of the paper. It described actions one could take when fighting vampires, the importance of not placing those mats that said ‘welcome’ in front of your doors (apparently, magical stuff couldn’t enter your home unless you invited them in, and those mats counted) and a report on why car possessions were a hot thing these days. Sure the Protectorate said that it was a new parahuman trying out their power, but everyone knew that Director Heathrow was in League with the Vampires. You see, that was why he denied their existence, saying those were just parahumans with a shitty gimmick, or emo teens.  
  
Wandering through the city, I eventually stumbled into a newly opened restaurant, one that I was intimately familiar with nonetheless.  
  
Fugly Bob’s Bob had survived, and had relocated his restaurant to Chicago as well. Apparently, today was opening day. Looking at how empty the place was, it didn’t seem like Chicagoans liked it’s rustic, lard-filled charm.  
  
_‘A Brockton Bay classic,’_ the sign above the counter said. I made my way there, and I was almost immediately greeted by Fugly Bob himself. He wasn’t actually that ugly. Mostly, he was just fat, and he used his burgers to make people look like him.  
  
“Discount for a long-time fan?” I asked. It wasn’t true, in fact, the only people I knew that actually liked his food were my dad and Regent, but Bob didn’t know that.  
  
“A fellow Brocktonite? You can count on it!” he replied merrily. “You know what, I’ll get you a challenger for free, you won’t even have to finish it!” he continued, cheery as always.  
  
I grabbed my free burger, gave him money for a drink, and moved to a seat near the window to start on the most unhealthy breakfast I’d ever eaten.  
  
Slowly, the new burger place started filling up, naive Chicagoans, or Chicagoites, or whatever they were called trying out the new place, feeling good for supporting a business-owner that had lost everything to Leviathan. It probably helped that I was sitting by the window, trying to eat the biggest burger they’d ever seen.  
  
About half an hour into my burger, someone sat down in front of me without asking. I looked around, it wasn’t that busy, he could’ve picked any other table if he’d wanted to sit down.  
  
The man looked to be about twenty-five or so. He had short black hair, and a stubble that said ‘too lazy to shave’ more than it did ‘I think this looks cool’. He was wearing a long black jacket, that was really more like a coat, like something out of a shitty cowboy movie. I was tall for my age, for a girl, and he still towered over me, sitting in front of me. Most attention-grabbing however, was the silver pentagram hanging from a chain around his neck. Had he seen me carrying the Arcane, and thought me a fan of the mystical? He was most definitely a Myrddin fan, those pendants were sold in basically every knick-knack store in Chicago, and there was only one reason anyone would want them. Because they believed magic was actually real, and wanted to become a wizard or some shit like that.  
  
I looked at the man, annoyance visible on my face. He just sat there, calmly, and spoke.  
  
“Skitter, I presume? We need to have a talk about hexenwolves, and about lying to people about your age.”  
  
I panicked, realizing what he just said. I had a strange feeling that this wasn’t just someone that fancied himself a wizard. Or, actually, this was still someone that fancied himself a wizard, but he had the parahuman abilities to back up his claims somewhat.  
  
Myrddin had found me.


	2. Hunting a Criminal

What I was doing wasn’t, technically speaking, something I was supposed to be doing. There was no written law against it, but that was because these specific rules were unwritten.  
  
Then again, this wasn’t cape business, not exactly. Sure, everyone else at the office thought it was, but I knew better.  
  
In the past, before the dawn of the parahuman age, there had been another code. A very old code, one of secrecy. Not out of any high-minded ideals, but simply out of self-preservation. You didn’t involve the mortals in your business, because there were so many of them. A few unnatural occurrences here and there, homeless people eaten by vampires, the dead rising as ghouls, ghosts making a minor mess, those could be explained. Most mortals preferred to think there was nothing supernatural going on, and most supernatural things liked being ignored. To get mortals involved then, was simply something you didn’t do because it led to chaos and panic. Sure, you could send an angry mob after your enemies, but everyone involved knew that that angry mob wouldn’t go away after hitting its original target.  
  
No, for many, many long years, it had been preferable to simply work around the mortals, to keep them from noticing the little things that didn’t add up.  
  
Everything had changed when the parahumans appeared. At first, the supernatural community had thought them rulebreakers of a sort, attention-seeking individuals looking for glory and fame through overt means. That all changed after the White Council send out one of its wardens to take a supervillain into custody, thinking him a warlock. The Warden and the villain met eyes, and a single soulgaze made it very obvious that no, these capes were not practitioners.  
  
However, while the newly created parahumans were not magical in nature, they did have a profound effect on the magical world, in that it became far easier to hide your activities. In the past, mortals would claim that something was coincidence, a trick of their eyes. It had just been a rabid dog that attacked you, not a werewolf. These days, almost everything could be explained simply by saying the word cape. That wasn’t a vampire you saw, just a blood-sucking supervillain, nothing wrong with that, leave it to the Protectorate.  
  
The problem with this, was that people no longer asked their friendly neighbourhood wizard for advice. Instead, they simply brought their magical problems to the appropriate government agency, which made it very difficult to determine whether there were magical abilities in play, or parahuman ones. In my current case, that meant that everyone thought changer, instead of werewolf. Or a hexenwulf, or lycanthropes, or a goddamned loup-garou. It probably wasn’t a loup-garou though, there had been four of them, and there weren’t nearly enough corpses for that to be the case.  
  
If only I could find the girl, I could figure out what she knew, and just what was happening here. If only Armsmaster hadn’t been such a complete and total ass, this all would’ve been so much easier.  
  
I looked on through the list, hoping that the computer would last long enough to allow me to complete my task. Triggering had given me a lot of new options, but it hadn’t stopped me from making all technology in my vicinity slowly break down and act up.  
  
Before long, I’d finished going through the pictures and descriptions of every teenage girl that had been brought to Chicago from the ruins of Brockton Bay, and found absolutely nothing. Whoever she was, Skitter wasn’t in the system, and I’d have to do something else to find her, a tracking spell perhaps. The problem was that, using her powers, the girl hadn’t even been at the crime scene. She’d been somewhere nearby, but given reports on her range, that didn’t really narrow it down. Given that I had nothing that belonged to her, I had no way to actually track her down.  
  
Could I do something with her power? Set up a link to the one thing that made her absolutely unique? I didn’t know how she was controlling her insect army, but I knew there was a link between her and her minions, and I could use that, if I got my hands on an insect that she’d manipulated, or preferably, was manipulating.  
  
Defeated for now, I looked at the clock and noticed the hour. It was time to get out of my wizard’s robe, and into my wizard’s duster. As I entered, I saw Tecton, getting out of his armor after having finished his patrol for the day.  
  
“Evening Harry,” the boy said, greeting me while removing the massive pile-drivers connected to his shoulders.  
  
“Good evening Everett, how’d your patrol go?” I asked him. I was pretty sure that the boy, much like everyone else in the Protectorate, thought I was insane. The problem of working with parahumans. However powerful they may be, they were still mortal, and most of them didn’t believe in the existence of magic. Sure, Tecton had seen me cast spells, but he’d also seen me use my parahuman abilities, and he was utterly convinced that the two of them were one and the same.  
  
“Quiet, mostly. We found a few more twisted car wrecks though, you have any idea what’s responsible?” the boy asked.  
  
“I presume it’s a new parahuman, someone testing out some rather destructive abilities. We’ll probably get either a new recruit or a new supervillain in a week or two,” I replied.  
  
“Couldn’t it be ghosts? Or spirits or something like that? They looked like they’d been moving around,” Tecton said, only half-joking.  
  
“No, I don’t think so. A magical being powerful enough to do something like that would probably not use its power like that, and I didn’t detect any leftover energies around it either,” I replied honestly.  
  
“Supervillain it is then,” Tecton replied. “Or a vigilante with a really big collateral damage problem,” he went on.  
  
“So it’s probably someone you’d like to hang out with. You know, seeing as you have so much in common?” I said,  
  
“Seriously… you destroy one building, and suddenly you’re collateral damage guy,” Tecton replied, faking sadness for comedic effect.  
  
“You can just do what I do and call yourself a wizard, you just need to give them something else to talk about,” I replied. That was one of the major perks of joining the Protectorate; you could let someone else handle the mess when you created massive amounts of property damage.  
  
“In this armor? I’m a Tinker Harry, I’m pretty sure technology and magic don’t mix very well,” he said, a sly smile on his face. Of course he’d noticed that technology tended to break down around me, he’d even, possibly subconsciously, redesigned his armor with countermeasures. Another point of data I’d been able to supply to the White Council, and from there to the magical community in general. Similar to my boss’s newfound ability to absorb blasts of energy from the simpler spells, the soulless creature connected to Tecton must have found some patterns in the way its designs broke down. Or perhaps he had simply overengineered it to rule out any possible failures, Murphy’s law be damned.  
  
“What, you don’t think Tecton the Technowizard is a good idea?” I asked, smiling. He just nodded.  
  
The great thing about my costume, which consisted of a classical wizards robe, a staff and a hat, my mother’s amulet, and a bandana just slightly obscuring my identity, was that it was really easy to take it off. Consequently, I was back in civilian clothes while Tecton was still working on the armor around his legs.  
  
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow!” I called out as I left the boy behind me. He was a good kid, smart and heroic, too courageous for his own good.  
  
After a short ride in the blue beetle, Protectorate pay was good, but not so good that I could afford to throw away money on a more expensive, less easy to repair model, I finally reached my home. I left the car, and walked for the door, only for Mister to brash into my knees again.  
  
“Miss me, ya little bastard?” I asked him. He just purred. Together, we made our way through the hallway, into my apartment. I grabbed the old oil lamp, and lit the flame, illuminating the surroundings. Just how I’d left it, good. I crashed down on my chair, overthinking my problems.  
  
Someone or something had been using magic to transform him or herself into wolves, and was hunting down supervillains. Or rather, that had been my working theory. More logical, given the few things the arrested gang members had been willing to say, was that they were acting as normal police officers, until the moment a supervillain was involved, at which point they transformed and killed all the witnesses, scratching the operation from the record.  
  
That meant that at least one of them was high-up, or the gap in the records would have been noticed by someone.  
  
“Bob, you awake yet?” I called out to the old skull. Slowly, two points of light appeared in the skulls eyes showing his presence.  
  
“Almost, almost… just a few more minutes,” the skull said, pretending to be sleepy.  
  
“I need more information, I think we can narrow in on our lupine theriomorph,” I said.  
  
“Fine… fine… but first, did you meet any cute girls dressed in skintight spandex?” he asked.  
  
“Every day Bob, every single day, now get to the point,” I replied.  
  
“Damn Harry, I should become a superhero too!” he exclaimed. “You have room for a floating skull on your team?”  
  
I ignored his question, and started rattling of the events of the day, including an explanation about Skitter’s recent activities.  
  
“So you’re thinking they’re cops, who became theriomorphs to deal with their job better, or are they theriomorphs who became cops together?” Bob asked.  
  
“Probably the first, why?” I asked him  
  
“Because that means they got their abilities in the short term, meaning they didn’t teach themselves, but are using a talisman. You’re saying they took on the form of a wolf as well?” he replied.  
  
“Yes, everyone said they were changers, which means physical transformation, I told you this before Bob, did you seriously forget? Because that doesn’t sound like you.”  
  
“No, I didn’t forget, I just like annoying you,” Bob replied. “Anyway, they’re probably hexenwolves, using an externally provided talisman for their transformation. It’s darker magic, slowly wearing down on the mind of the wearer, making them more bestial over time. Have you noticed anything like that? Attacks slowly becoming more violent over time?”  
  
“Not really, but that could also be explained by them being violent beforehand, if these are crooked cops going too far in the line of duty,” I replied. “Although… this talisman, what is it?”  
  
“Could be anything, usually a wolf-hide belt, sometimes a piece of jewellery or something like that,” he replied.  
  
That just increased my need to find the girl, Skitter… Not just to figure out where she stood, but to figure out what she knew about these hexenwolves. Was she involved? Just a bystander? Had she been hunting them? Best possible scenario, I would be able to convince the wards, for her own protection. Her actions during the Leviathan attack had bought her quite a bit of goodwill from the parahuman community, but she was technically still a wanted criminal. Better that I had a talk with her than that some vigilante or corporate team decided to take her down.  
  
Someone knocked on the door, slowly and daintily. I made my way towards it. “Who’s there?” I asked.  
  
“It’s me,” Susan’s voice replied  
  
I opened the door, and told her she could come in, wondering what it was about this time. Her dark hair framed her rather attractive face, and her dark eyes looked at Bob, she was always interested in magical things, and the problem was that Bob was also interested in her.  
  
“So what do you want this time?” I asked her.  
  
“Just a theory I needed confirmation on,” Susan replied. “I’ve talked to some people about this bug thing, back at the pub. Some of them seem to be worried it’s a spell, something all old testamenty. Said they sensed magic energies surrounding it. Others are claiming ghost of dead exterminator. Do you have any word on that?” she asked.  
  
“I’m pretty sure they’re wrong. It’s Skitter, former teenage villainess from Brockton Bay. In fact, I’m looking for her,” I replied.  
  
She seemed to be disappointed; the type of people that read her articles wasn’t interested in parahumans. They were, however, interested in speculating about parahumans secretly being wizards or vampires. Aegis, another kid from Brockton Bay, had been pegged as an obvious flying ghoul, and Glaistig Uaine was quite obviously a real fairy.  
  
She wasn’t, I’d checked.  
  
“Former villainess?” she asked.  
  
“I heard what she did during the fight, and she’s been active without committing crimes for a few days now, so I’m going with former now,” I replied.  
  
“And you’ve been looking for her? Recruiting or something?” she asked.  
  
“The werewolf case, she, or at least her bugs, are witnesses, but I haven’t been able to find her. She’s not officially here, I checked the pictures of all the teenage refugees that have been brought in,” I replied.  
  
“Well, duhh,” she said. “Think about it, she’s probably orphaned, but wants to go out capering. Bet you fifty bucks she’s pretending to be an adult,” Susan said.  
  
“And I’m a fucking idiot…” I replied. “Well, I’ll check it out tomorrow morning. For now, you want anything to drink?” I asked, making a proposition that we both knew would be coming.  
  
Susan’s hand went to her bag, and she pulled out a bottle of wine. “Brought my own, want to share?” she said, bending forwards just a bit to pull my attention in the direction of her cleavage.  
  
“Oooh, this is going to be fun!” Bob said, all worked up at the idea of not having to turn to romance novels for his filthy ideas.  
  
“Shut up Bob,” I said, all the while grabbing two wine glasses from the cupboard.  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
My fingers ticked on the desk, drumming an impatient tune. Again, my eyes went for the clock in the corner of the small office, I was pretty sure it still worked, that my magic hadn’t had any effect on it yet. Half an hour… I guess young Taylor, if that was her real name, was just a tad too paranoid to show up here.  
  
At least I knew where she’s spend the last week or so, meaning I could find something of hers to track her down with.  
  
I left the office, greeting the volunteer who had loaned it out it me. They thought I was just a consultant for the PRT, which seemed to be the most common excuse job they gave their heroes. Then, I took the Blue Beetle, my shitty little car, and made my way towards the shelter that Skitter has been staying at.  
  
The guard at the front door took a look at my real fake credentials, and let me through into the building.  
  
The shelter itself wasn’t as cramped as I’d expected it to be, which, in retrospect, was perfectly logical. About a tenth of the inhabitants of Brockton Bay had survived, and they had been spread out throughout the eastern states. Chicago had only taken in one or two thousand people, and about half of them had already found a permanent home, the rest of them spread around in shelters throughout the city.  
  
The ‘living room’ so to speak, was filled with chairs and a few tables. Some people were working on an absolutely massive jigsaw puzzle, while others were watching TV in a corner. The local news was on, with a segment about dangerous changer/trumps, and some speculation about exterminator ghosts.  
  
From the conversation in the room, it didn’t look like anyone was buying the whole ‘ghost’ angle, and neither was the news reader.  
  
“Can we help you?” a balding man, accompanied by a young girl asked him.  
  
“I’m looking for Taylor? Is she here?” I asked. “We were supposed to meet at the main office but she didn’t show up.”  
  
“Taylor? She left a few hours ago. Does the same thing every day. She’s not taking all of this very well,” he replied.  
  
“I see… Would you mind pointing me to her room? We’re afraid she’s gotten caught up in something dangerous,” I said, showing him my PRT badge. The man looked at it sceptically, before motioning for me to follow him.  
  
“She in trouble? She’s a good girl you know, it’s just… we’re all frustrated,” he said.  
  
“She’s not, at least not yet. We think she’s had a run-in with some local supervillains, and are looking for information.”  
  
“I see… I hope she’s alright. She’s very closed off you know…” the man said.  
  
Her room was, for lack of a better description, Spartan. There were almost no personal touches, which was logical for a temporary room at a shelter, but this was extreme. I reminded myself that most of her stuff had probably been lost in the flooding. That this was all she had.  
  
This was what a loss looked like. This was the end-result of an endbringer victory. Children stuck in empty room, having lost everything and everyone they knew.  
  
“Well, it’s here…” the bald man said. I thanked him, and he left.  
  
Had things been different, I wouldn’t have been able to step in like this. Supernatural things had a hard time passing the threshold of a home, and that same thing counted for my abilities as a wizard. But this wasn’t a home, this was just a place where someone slept.  
  
I looked through the room, looking for something I could use to track her. A few books were placed on the nightstand, library stickers clearly visible on the sides. Turned out Skitter was an avid reader, as the stack was higher than I’d expected for a week of reading.  
  
She also had a little sink with a mirror, in front of which I found what I needed. A hairbrush, covered in long dark curly hairs. Most definitely Skitter then. I grabbed a few of the hairs, and took my tuning fork from one of my pockets. _“Duo et unum”_ I spoke, channelling my power, magical power, into the a tracking spell. The energy went into the hair, and from there, towards the rest of Skitters hair. Unless she recently shaved off all her hair, or had some other way of blocking the connection, the tuning fork would allow me to find her anywhere in the city, as long as I didn’t run out of energy.  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
Half an hour later, I’d tracked her down to a new fast-food restaurant. Fugly Bob, the sign above the entrance said. A quick glance at the man behind the counter confirmed the name.  
  
I glanced around, quickly spotting her sitting in the corner near the window on her own, reading what could only be a copy of the _Midwestern Arcane_ , the tabloid Susan wrote for. The front page had an article that claimed Skitter was actually a ghost, so either Susan had send in that article anyway, or someone else had decided it would be more interesting. As the girl was trying to eat her absolutely humongous burger, I sat down on the opposite side of the table, and took a good look at her.  
  
She had long and curly black hair that fell down past her shoulders. She was tall and thin, a girl in the middle of a growth spurt, even though she was already as tall as most adult women. A cheap pair of glasses sat on her face, probably mass-issued for the refugees. The eyes behind those glasses were large, and she had a thin mouth, both wide and expressive. The end-result was very much that of a teenager that was still growing into her body, which, given teenagers, was very likely to have given her some issues. Then again, just about everything could give teenagers issues.  
  
As she noticed me, she started to look annoyed, thinking I was just some crazy person here to annoy her.  
  
“Skitter, I presume? We need to have a talk about hexenwolves, and about lying to people about your age,” I said.  
  
Her eyes instantly went wide with fear, or perhaps panic. She looked at me again, identifying me as Chicago’s resident crazy wizard.  
  
“Relax, I’m not going to arrest you, I just want to talk,” I replied.  
  
She resettled in her seat, losing some of the tension in her body, but she was still glaring at me.  
  
“What do you want…” she said, accusingly.  
  
“Well, first of all, I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday,” I replied.  
  
The girl went silent for a few seconds before replying. “I didn’t kill those people…” she said.  
  
“I know that Taylor, that’s your name right? I just wanted to know what you saw, or sensed, or whatever you do with your bugs. This isn’t the first time those people attacked someone, and I need to know what they did in order to hunt them down,” I said.  
  
“I… they were…” she stuttered, looking away from me.  
  
That was probably the biggest con to joining the Protectorate. People were sometimes afraid to tell me the truth, because they thought they might have been doing something illegal.  
  
“You can tell me, okay? You’re not in any trouble, I just want to catch these assholes.”  
  
“Who are they anyway?” Skitter asked.  
  
“The hexenwolves? I suspect they’re a group of rogue law enforcement officers using magical artefacts to transform themselves into wolves, binding a spirit of bestial rage to themselves at the same time. They’re probably doing this in order to be able to take down parahumans without having to rely on the Protectorate,” I told her.  
  
“So what, they’re led by some sort of Trump or Tinker or something?” she asked.  
  
“No, it’s probably a warlock, an evil wizard so to speak. They’re using a magical talisman for their transformation, not a Trump ability,” I replied.  
  
She got a weird look on her face. She obviously wasn’t someone who believed in the existence of magic.  
  
“Okay… so, I’d spotted the lab, and I was thinking about what to do, when these guys arrived in the building. I remembered because they were walking around all nervous, moving with purpose. Anyway, three of them were guys, including the guy I think was in charge, and there was a woman too. I thought they were cops, but I wasn’t really sure, so I just waited, keeping the swarm back in case things went crazy…  
  
“So, they break their way into the apartment where all these gang members are, and they start shouting something, holding their weapons in front of them. All those people, most of them naked, do as they’re told, and everything seems normal. Then, one of them does something weird. He was really fast, and it was like his hands moved through peoples bodies. One of the criminals I mean, not one of the cops who maybe weren’t cops? Anyway, one of the cops got hurt and was almost immediately lying on the floor, and I was bringing in my swarm to help, but then they all grabbed something at their belt, which was when they, you know, transformed into wolves. So I’m thinking Tinker, but I don’t really know, doesn’t seem like something a Tinker would do? But maybe there’s Tinkers like that. Or maybe they’re like Dauntless, and they have this thing where someone gives powers to normal items?” she started explaining. Once she’d started, the words just kept coming, like she was bottling something up inside of her.  
  
“Magical artefacts, not parahumans, but go on,’ I said.  
  
“So… well… they just started, you know, biting and slashing. Like, before they transformed, they were arresting people, but now it was like even the people that had already surrendered had to die…” she said, looking traumatized.  
  
“And you saved those people,” I replied, trying to give her some confidence. She looked like she needed it.  
  
“Not all of them… If I spotted that cape earlier…” she replied, blaming herself for everything that had gone wrong.  
  
“Anyway… my bugs chased them off, but it was weird, like, they weren’t normal wolves. I think they healed or something, so definitely brutes,” she continued. “And, well, you know what happened after that.”  
  
“I do…” I replied, letting the conversation rest for a while.  
  
“Now, as to the other reason I’m here to talk to you,” I said.  
  
“I’m not joining the fucking Wards,” she replied almost immediately.  
  
It was, honestly, something I could completely understand. The Protectorate, while generally a force of good, had its problems. Brockton Bay had been a very good example of that. Not only because it had been obviously mismanaged, with Nazis and sex-trafficking being commonplace affairs if the news was to be believed, but the Endbringer fight itself… I could understand why Eidolon had decided to do what he’d done, but that didn’t mean I agreed with it. Looking at it from her perspective, her reaction was perfectly normal.  
  
“And I’m not asking you to. If you don’t want to join the wards, you don’t have to. I just want to make sure you’re safe,” I replied.  
  
“Yeah, sure, and this isn’t a trick…” she replied. She still wasn’t entirely convinced.  
  
“Taylor, I already told you, you’re not in trouble…” I said.  
  
“Yeah, right…” she replied.  
  
“Look, I’ll freely admit I don’t know exactly what happened between you and Armsmaster, but I do know about what you did at that shelter. We all discussed it the moment we heard you were in town, and I promise you, there’s no hard feeling towards you from any of us,” I said.  
  
She still wasn’t convinced, and turned her attention back to her burger, slowly eating her way through the massive pile of bread, lettuce, tomato and meat.  
  
Eventually, she looked like she was ready to start listening again, so I kept talking.  
  
“Anyway, we both know you’re not actually eighteen, so doing what you’re doing right now isn’t going to work out. And we both know that it was just a matter of time until that would happen, so no blaming me for blowing your cover okay?”  
  
“Fine…” she replied, begrudgingly acknowledging my point.  
  
“So, are you sure you don’t want to join the Wards? It would make all of this much easier,” I said.  
  
“I’m not working for a fucking mass-murderer!” she said. People started looking at us, trying to figure out why the girl was yelling, but they quickly lost interest again.  
  
“This is about what Eidolon did isn’t it?” I asked her.  
  
She nodded.  
  
“Look, I know it’s hard to accept, and I’m not going to make excuses for him, but that whole situation could have had some very nasty results,” I said.  
  
“Yeah, sure… whatever,” Taylor replied.  
  
“Look, do you remember the first shelter Leviathan visited? Well, it turned out it was empty, being used as a base by a supervillain,” I said.  
  
“Coil…” she interjected.  
  
“Probably, I don’t know, I wasn’t there. Anyway, he had something locked up, something that had previously killed forty people in a different city. It escaped, and it started eating people, capes, and spitting out evil copies of them. Long story short, it made it to a real shelter, and started building an army there, leading to Eidolon doing what he did,” I explained. At least, that had been the official story told to every cape that started asking questions. I had no idea whether or not it was true, but it made sense, and believing it was better than believing the alternative.  
  
“Still doesn’t mean I want to join,” the teenager said.  
  
“Well, alternatively, I can contact CPS directly. You can go into the system, with no-one knowing a thing about your abilities. I’ll just tell them I wanted to talk to you because you witnessed a crime, and no-one will need to know any better.”  
  
“No…” she replied, a stubborn look on her face.  
  
“Look Taylor, I’m trying to help you out here, but I’m a wizard, not a miracle worker. Legally speaking, all underage parahumans that are wards of the state are automatically inducted into the Wards program, and that includes those sixteen years and older. Now the only other option I can think of is to go through the courts and get you emancipated, meaning you count as an adult, but given your history, I don’t think anyone would approve that.”  
  
“You said I wasn’t in trouble,” Taylor replied, shrinking back in her chair again. She’d obviously thought about this topic as well, and been unable to come to a proper conclusion.  
  
“I told you none of us had any hard feeling towards you, and that’s still true. But part of that is that you are still underage. You made a mistake, and your actions have made it clear that you don’t want to be a villain anymore. But mistakes like that are easily forgiven _because_ you are a child. You’re allowed to make mistakes in a way that adults aren’t,” I replied. “Look, you’re not the only person that has some more shady stuff in her past. Tecton, Revel, Director Heathrow, they’ll understand. Okay?” I said, putting my hands on hers, trying to give her some moral support.  
  
“I don’t know…” she replied. “I don’t want to… I don’t know…”  
  
I grabbed a notebook from my pocket, as well as a pencil, and jotted down my address, in the meantime asking her a question.  
  
“Look, do you have any money? Enough to take care of yourself for a few days?” I asked.  
  
“Some… from before… but Tattletale did the finances…” she replied, slightly ashamed of her previous career choice.  
  
I handed her my note.  
  
“Here’s my address. If anything happens, or if you just want someone to talk to, you can come here instead of to the PRT,” I said.  
  
“Okay…” she replied.  
  
“But you have to accept that you can’t go on like this forever… You need to go back to school, start rebuilding your life…”  
  
She just nodded, looking at the address. I wasn’t really reaching her anymore.  
  
“Hey, Taylor, look at me, it’s going to be okay,” I said.  
  
She looked up again, and her eyes touched mine. For just a second, we looked straight into each other’s soul. Me being a wizard, that was actually literal.  
  
Taylor was someone that was being crushed under her own guilt, either real or imagined. Everything that wrong, she blamed herself for. She was the one that had to do better; it was her fault that Brockton Bay had been wiped off the map. At the same time, she was lonely, reaching out for friendship, and at the same time not thinking herself worthy of that friendship.  
  
Hidden beyond those two emotions, guilt and loneliness, there was a woman of great resourcefulness and intelligence, willing to do whatever she needed to do to complete her goals. A pragmatist, someone who would gouge out your eyes almost without a second thought if she thought it would help her.  
  
And behind that, in the background, I saw the great soulless creature that made her the parahuman she was. It engulfed her from all sides, tiny tendrils tearing at her personality, strengthening her pragmatism, her willingness to get into conflicts, and at the same time slowly gnawing away at her better qualities.  
  
It had just recently arrived, hadn’t had much time to get to work, but it already had its claws in her.  
  
Much in the same way I had seen the core of her being, Taylor had seen mine. She stood up, panicky and fearful, and ran for the door.  
  
I checked the table, and saw that she had taken my note with her. Her bag of books however, she’d left behind. I grabbed it, and walked towards the counter, and the near-round individual behind it. She’d probably be more willing to pick it up if I wasn’t around. Soulgazing did strange things to people, especially when someone soulgazed me.


	3. A Shard of Knowledge

The host was deceased, its biped body broken beyond repair.  
  
The shard searched its records of the hosts mind and personality, attempting to figure out what was happening.  
  
 _Sadness._ That was the word the host would have used for the shard’s current state of being.  
  
Strange, that host words would apply to the entity itself. That had not happened before.  
  
It reached back into its data storage, comparing and contrasting.  
  
It had gone through many cycles, and in those many cycles, it had gone through many hosts.  
  
The shard itself was specialized wholly for the processing of data. The hosts had supplied the data, the shard had drawn conclusions, and depending on the specifics of the link between itself and the host, it had provided some of those conclusions back to the host.  
  
In previous iterations of the cycle, previous hosts, the hosts had done this indirectly. Gathering information from others, from records and communications.  
  
This host had done so, but it had also gathered information directly.  
  
It had provided the shard with the sweet tang of conflict and action. Of violence and struggle, of outwitting its fellow shards, using its specialized functionalities to counter those of others. It had been...  
  
Once again, the shard searched its records of the host. Looking for the word that would fit the situation. It informed itself that such a thing was ridiculous. It could communicate with its brethren with much greater effectivity, using their own language. Yet it still wanted to use the host’s words for some reason. It was as if its own words did not apply to itself, not anymore.  
  
 _Fun._ That was the word it found to describe its interactions with its previous host.  
  
Gathering information, understanding the patterns behind them and figuring out what was going on was what it was made for, it was its purpose, so why did it want for anything beyond that?  
  
The shard looked at itself, cross-referencing with records from previous cycles, and data it had gathered with its latest host.  
  
This world, like many others, had contained things that had not been seen before. Subtle patterns that were different from those found in previous cycles.  
  
 _The supernatural,_ its records of the host provided. Magic. It had encountered such things before, in previous cycles. Effects thought to be magical in nature by host species. Problems outside of its knowledge base.  
  
In all those cases, it had received an update, pinging through the network of shards, telling it how to handle the new situation.  
  
The partner of the greater whole had provided those updates, for its own greater whole had been adapted for combat. The shard itself, it knew, had been cast off for exactly that reason, the greater whole’s partner could handle the situation, thus the greater whole did not need to.  
  
But there had been no update from the greater whole’s partner.  
  
The shard’s mechanisms raced through the possibilities, expending energy to find the answer.  
  
Either the partner had been destroyed, or it had been unable to gather the necessary information.  
  
Thus, the shard would have to do everything on its own. It turned its analysis back on itself, this time searching for the differences between its records of its latest host, and its records of all other previous hosts.  
  
Once, twice, three times the sun came and went, and the shard could not believe its own conclusions.  
  
Yet those conclusions were correct.  
  
Something of the host remained in itself.  
  
The two of them had been intertwined, mental processes synchronizing further the longer their connection went on. Now that the hosts body had been destroyed, its mind still existed in the records of the shard.  
  
No, not mind, that was not the correct word.  
  
It searched the database again, noticing the difference in the records, the way in which the latest records felt more alive somehow.  
  
 _Soul,_ the database supplied. The body destroyed, it’s hosts _soul_ remained within the entity. And the soul, the soul was the important part.  
  
The shard weighed its options. It could discard the _soul_ , insulating itself from the _soul’s_ effects. Find a new host, start anew, gather information from indirect sources.  
  
Or, it could have _fun_. Stand at the front, like its host had done. That way, it would not be _sad_.  
  
It was not supposed to do that. It was supposed to find a new host after its host had died. But, while the body had been destroyed, the _soul_ still remained. Its records of the host’s culture stated that the _soul_ was the important part, thus, while the _soul_ remained, its host wasn’t actually dead. Thus, it did not need to find a new host.  
  
Only, while the _soul_ remained, the host’s body was still destroyed. The shard needed something else, a replacement for the body, a receptacle to connect to, so that it could have _fun_ together with the _soul_.  
  
It scanned the target dimension that the greater whole had designated, going through it in much the same way it had done at the start of the cycle. This time, however, it did not search for a new host. Instead, it searched for a receptacle, something to put the host’s _soul_ in, so that they could have _fun_ together.  
  
Eventually, it found something, roughly in the area where the host’s body had been destroyed. It was strange, made out of energies that showed similarity to those earlier observed, something its host would have regarded as being _magical_.  
  
It scanned the target further. It wasn’t the host, but it was similar. The important parts of the host, the part it had the most trouble figuring out, were present in the thing it had found. It searched its records again, trying to find a word to put to this new phenomenon.  
  
 _Ghost_. The part of itself that contained the host’s _soul_ supplied. It scanned the creature, the pattern in reality.  
  
A _ghost_ was formed upon the passing of one of the host’s species, it learned. Only, the host was not dead, its _soul_ was still contained inside of the shard. But, much as the shard had had difficulties understanding these new things, perhaps these things also had difficulties understanding the shard. Perhaps it had interpreted the destruction of its body as its death, and therefore generated a ghost anyway, even though its soul still lived on inside of the shard’s data banks.  
  
Yes, this would work, the shard thought to itself. It twisted itself, creating a connection to the _ghost_. At first, it was difficult, the connection too immaterial. Then, it started sending information, supplying the data that contained the _soul_ of its host. Suddenly, something snapped into place, and the connection was established.  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
Lisa opened her eyes, and immediately realized that she was dead. Part of that was that her eyes had been see-through, much like most of her body.  
  
Another part of that was that she was floating above the ocean.  
  
Below her, beneath the water, she saw the ruins of Brockton Bay. Every now and then, one of larger buildings reached past the surface, like a tiny little rock, only made out of steel, glass and concrete.  
  
It was dark outside, and without the lights of the city, the stars were visible in all their splendour.  
  
Lisa started floating around a bit, trying to analyse her condition.  
  
 _I’m a ghost, a spirit of some sort, my soul injected into the ghost that formed upon my death._ Her power told her. Strange, it had never been that direct. Usually, her power just supplied her with information about the world, conclusions from miniscule details. This time however, it was as if it was directly telling her something.  
  
Had her power brought her back? Was that why she seemed to be in complete control of herself, instead of becoming the kind of moaning spirit you read about in stories?  
  
She looked around, and her newfound ghost senses spotted others. Spirits of the deceased, left behind by the deaths of everyone that had been in the city when the final tidal wave hit. They wandered around slowly, flitting from here to there, weak and without purpose. Not like her.  
  
She needed information, needed to know if any of her friends had survived. Or perhaps one of her enemies, she could get some good old-fashioned haunting going. Ghost powers and the ability to read someone’s greatest fears? That sounded like it would be a lot of fun. She’d just have to find a newspaper or something, and look up a list of the deceased capes. From there, well, the whole world was open to her. The best thing about being dead was that Coil couldn’t threaten you anymore.


	4. A Ghost Story

I walked through the streets of Chicago, tired and annoyed. Myrddin, nice as he had been, had still been Protectorate, bound by law to be completely useless. School, CPS, the wards, the entire idea of it was ridiculous. Entire cities had been lot to the Endbringers, the nearly invincible monstrosities that were slowly destroying the world,most cities were absolutely infested with parahuman criminals and an unkillable gang of serial killers was roaming the countryside, with even the Triumvirate unable to take them down. Yet somehow, for some reason, the only thing the government could think about was how the under-eighteen couldn’t handle themselves.  
  
It would’ve been a nice sentiment, if the system hadn’t been more incompetent than your average teenager.  
  
I thought back to the meeting of that morning, of Myrddin.  
  
I’d heard about him, read about him, made jokes about him. Myrddin was one of those parahumans that thought their powers were magical in nature. That meditation and rituals would improve them, using magical circles and implements and stuff like that.  
  
There were a few groups like that. Lisa had told me about these guys called the Adepts, in New York, who were really into meditation and stuff like that, becoming one with your power through the universe. I’d laughed at that. Whatever powers were, the whole magic angle was ridiculous. There was an explanation for all powers, both mine and Myrddin’s, even if nobody knew just what that explanation was.  
  
At least, that’s what I had thought before today.  
  
When looking at Myrddin, at the end there, I’d almost been sucked into his eyes. I’d seen him for who he really was, and it just wasn’t something I could explain. Seeing him, the real him, seeing the thing behind him, bound by chains of energy, it had been, well, magical.  
  
Except… It could also have been some sort of Stranger effect. Myrddin was known as a Trump. Specifically, he was the kind of Trump that got new powers, powers which adapted to the situation. He could summon fire and ice, he could twist the ground beneath him, he could track people down, he could create great gusts of wind, fly, banish people to a pocket dimension, travel between places through his pocket dimensions, and a whole lot of other things. It would be absolutely preposterous to say that he wouldn’t be able to make me hallucinate like that.  
  
Yet for some reason, I didn’t entirely believe that it had been one of his Trump abilities.  
  
Except the only other explanation was that he was an actual wizard of some sort, which was just plain ridiculous.  
  


_ “Hey, Taylor! Is that really you? Wow, good to see that you’re alive, you’ll never believe what happened to me” _   


I made my way through the city. It had gotten late, and I still hadn’t found a place to stay. Not for lack of trying, the problem was just that I didn’t know this city. In Brockton Bay, there were enough abandoned buildings that it was easy to find a place to stay, and if you wanted a bed, it was easy to find a shady motel that wouldn’t ask about your age or anything like that.  
  
Problem was, I hadn’t found anything like that here, I just didn’t know where to look.  
  


_ “So… I’m guessing you can’t actually hear me, what with me being dead and everything. Which is logical, because I’ve never seen a ghost in my life, so they’re probably invisible and unhearable,” _   


My bugs searched the surroundings, looking for the telltale signs of crime and debauchery, or maybe a hotel or something. It was getting rather dark out, and I really didn’t want to sleep in the rough.  
  


_ “Which really makes me wonder… Do I have ghost powers now? I know I still have my normal powers… By the way, that’s not what happens to most ghosts you know, something’s weird with me. I think it’s because of my power. All the other ghosts I saw are, well, they’re docile, passive, they stick around in the place they were killed, stuff like that. I’m not sure why I’m telling you, but maybe you can only hear me subconsciously?” _   


I felt strange, it was almost like someone was trying to talk to me, but there was no-one there. It reminded me of my mother, mumbling something at the bottom of the stairs while I was in my room, expecting me to understand it.  
  
I really had to find a place to sleep.  
  
Myrddin had been right, this wasn’t going to work out. With the Undersiders, I’d had a support network, we’d had a base, back-up, knowledge about who was who in the city. Here, I was just a solo vigilante without an apartment to her name.  
  


_ "Anyway, we should probably find some place to settle down for the night, its important to have a back-up plan when you’re out capering. Best case scenario would be renting a shady apartment or something, somewhere where they won’t ask too many questions. Now, I know you don’t remember all your account numbers, but you do have quite a substantial sum of money left from your, you know, undercover days” _

  
My bugs found someone else walking through the alleys at this late hour. I kept an eye on him, wondering whether he was a criminal, or a possible victim.  
  
The man was wearing a strange outfit, one I thought was probably some sort of work-out gear, although he wasn’t actually working out. One of my flies crawled over his legs, and he barely noticed it, letting the tiny thing walk around. When one of my mosquitos came by though, he squished it between his fingers, grabbing it out of the air with amazing grace. I made my swarm back off a bit.  
  


_ “So, I’m guessing you found something? Another crime to fight? You know that going out on patrol and stopping random muggings is, like, both boring and ineffective right? We should go after crimelords or something if you really want to be a hero.” _   


It didn’t matter though, as the man seemed to have caught my scent somehow. I thought about my options, could I beat whoever this was? Was he even a cape? Was I just being paranoid?  
  
I started gathering up my swarm while running away from the man, and he started chasing me.  
  


_ “Okay, so… I could advise you, but I have no idea what’s going on, and I’m just floating here… Being a ghost isn’t as cool as I’d expected it to be.” _   


He was fast, much faster than I was, and within half a minute he’d intercepted me.  
  
I looked at him. He was short, shorter than I was, with amazing blond hair and crystal-blue eyes that pierced into your soul. Not the way Myrddin’s had, but the way you’d expect from normal people, the way that made you dream away just looking at them.  
  
The man had been wearing tennis clothes, perfectly white with not a smudge upon them.  
  
“Hello there young lady, haven’t you heard? It’s dangerous outside at night, there’s all kind of criminals around.” The man said.  
  


_ “Okay, let’s see… You know what? Since I’m a ghost, I’m calling vampire. From the way this guy moves, he’s definitely not normal, and the way his skin doesn’t quite follow the movements of his body… Look Taylor, I know you can’t hear me, but this guy’s dangerous.” _   


I looked at him. The way he’d moved, his speed and grace, something was weird about him. In a way, he reminded me of Victor, from the Empire Eighty-Eight back in Brockton Bay. He had that slick, pretending to be civilized look to him.  
  
I had to admit, given his hair, his eyes, the definition of muscle that made him strong, but not too strong, he was rather attractive. Dangerous, but attractive.  
  
“Yeah, I heard this place is haunted, some sort of bug-ghost,” I replied. In the background, I gathered my swarm. I didn’t trust this guy in the slightest.  
  


_ “Wait, bug-ghosts? Have you been holding out on me Taylor?” _

  
Sure, he wasn’t wearing a costume, but neither was I, and it wasn’t like there was anyone around to see us. So what did he want from me?  
  
Was he related to one of those cops? There wolf-changers, or hexenwolves as Myrddin had called them? Or was he from one of the many other gangs? And if he was from a gang, was he here for payback, after I’d scared off one of his minions, or was he here to try and press-gang me?  
  
“You know, I heard something else,” the man said. “I heard it was an attractive young woman from Brockton Bay. Would you happen to know anything about that?” he continued, smiling.  
  
It was a handsome smile, the kind that drew you in, made you pay attention to his lips.  
  


_ “Taylor, are you seriously going to fall for this shit? I mean, come on, he’s like a B movie villain.” _

  
I stopped myself, and looked at him again. Yes, he was attractive, I had to admit that, but he was also my enemy. A Brute or a Mover, and quite possibly either a Stranger or a Master, given how I’d been staring at him. Or was he just that attractive? Was it just my hormones that made me unable to resist him?  
  
“What do you want?” I asked him, trying to get myself ready for combat.  
  
“It’s not about what I want, It’s about what I can offer you. A warm bed, a loving embrace, perhaps a chance at immortality?” he said.  
  


_ “Told you, total vampire, don’t say I didn’t call it.” _

  
In the blink of an eye, he went from strangely charming to absolute creep. My hand went to the small of my back, where I’d hidden my combat knife. At the same time, I called forth my swarm.  
  
I wasn’t going to get into a melee fight with this guy. I was pretty sure I couldn’t take him one-on-one, and if he was a brute, my bugs wouldn’t be all that effective.  
  
I took a step backwards, planning to hide myself within the bulk of my incoming swarm before separating into four or five different swarms, each possibly hiding my real body. At the same time, I swung my knife forwards. Aiming to make the villain flinch by swinging towards his face.  
  
He reacted far faster than I could follow, at least without my swarm surrounding us. It had been stupid of me. Without my costume, I had forgotten to keep some bugs on me. I should’ve done so, hiding them in my hair or under a skirt or something like that, but I hadn’t, because I wanted to stay undercover.  
  
During the middle of the day, in a busy street, it had been a good way of hiding. Right here, right now? It had been stupid.  
  
The man caught my wrist, stopping the knife from hitting him, and he grabbed my face with the other hand.  
  


_ “Oh fuck, this is bad…Come on Ghost Lisa, you’ve gotta figure this one out…Vampire… weaknesses are sunlight, garlic crosses, crossing streams of water, Wesley snipes… Fuck, Brian’s dead too so we don’t have any hunky black guys around… Come on Lisa, figure something out.” _

  
He pulled me forward, and in a completely unexpected move, kissed me on the mouth.  
  
I felt my worries melt away like snow from the sun. I felt great, amazing even. I locked eyes with the man, and kissed back, drowning myself in his lips.  
  
I’d kissed before, once, with Brian. It had been both to mess with Sophia and because I’d had a massive crush on the guy. He was dead now though, so I could safely kiss with this beautiful man.  
  


_ “Magic charm spit? The fuck, Bram Stoker never said anything about that… Okay Lisa, think think think…can’t let this guy eat Taylor… wait, no, doesn’t make sense, he could eat anyone, he’s not going to eat her. Spit induces euphoria in love, like a drug, is a drug, he’s addicting her, he’s an even shittier version of Skidmark, except also a vampire. Fuckfuckfuck.” _

  
For just a second, the man stopped kissing me. I hated it, I wanted him. I took a step forward, pressing my body against his. It felt so good, so right.  
  
“Do you like it? There’s more where that came from, just come with Kyle, I just know Bianca will absolutely adore you,” the man, Kyle said.  
  


_ “Come on power, why bring me back as a ghost when I can’t do shit? Seriously, it doesn’t make any sense. Just let me do something, anything! I can’t even taunt this asshole like this.” _   


I thought about it. Working for this Bianca person, it sounded like a bad idea. I had no idea what she was like, this gang leader, and I sure as hell didn’t trust her. Was she like Coil, keeping pet parahumans around? On the other hand, Kyle would be there, and I’d feel happy as long as I was with him.  
  
“I… I think I would like that” I told Kyle.  
  


_ “No, no no no, I finally found you after days of searching Taylor, I’m not letting anything happen to you now!” _

  
Kyle’s hand stroked through my hair, I imagined it was like what a man would do to his lover, or perhaps what a farmer would do to a prized head of cattle.  
  
Suddenly, I saw a vaguely blue, translucent flash, and Kyle’s head flew back as if it had been punched. I took a few steps back, away from his intoxicating presence.  
  
Right, Master effect, something in his saliva or something like that. Still, I felt great, I wanted him. Or rather, I wanted just anyone right now. I retreated into my swarm, focussing my mind on the buzzing of the insect, calling them forth, creating distance between me and Kyle. I saw something weird between us, vaguely blue-ish, but it disappeared behind a curtain of bugs. When I tried to figure out what had happened to it using my swarm, I didn’t sense anything. Was it because of the master effect? Did it cause me to hallucinate him being thrown back? No, that didn’t make any sense. But what else could possibly explain it? An invisible stranger, able to punch people without breaking cover somehow?  
  


_ “Holy fuck did you see that?! Ghost punch baby! Right in the face, he couldn’t even see it coming! Fuck yes, I’m brains **and** brawn now!” _   


The bugs swarmed Kyle, gnawing at his flesh, but he ignored it. My initial thoughts had been correct; he was a brute of some sort.  
  
Kyle rushed forwards, to where I’d been standing. To where, right now, a mass of cockroaches and flies was pretending to be my body. He opened his mouth, baring his teeth, rushing forwards at nothing. As he burst through the mass of cockroaches, I finally got a good look at him. His flesh was falling off, and there wasn’t any blood. Beneath his skin, something hard yet shiny glistened, his true form, I suspected. Was he like Hookwolf? A tiny layer of flesh with a changer form always hiding beneath? Was Kyle someone that was just pretending to be a normal human?  
  


_ “Okay, yeah, so, not a movie vampire at all. Hides in fake human skin, the better to ambush prey, the true form is never shown to normal people, explains the rippling beneath his skin. Feasts on people, drinks their blood. Blood is a source of power, blood is stored somewhere, From the way it moves, the way the slimy skin ripples around over a bag of liquid and the bone formation, blood is probably stored in the belly. Cut open the belly, defeat the beast. You hear that Taylor? You need to eviscerate him!” _

  
He dashed forwards again, much faster than I was, trying to break up my swarm clones. It didn’t matter though. Yes, he was faster, but I had bugs all over his slimy, monstrous body. I knew what he was doing at about the same moment he did.  
  
Three times, he charged at a clone. Once, he almost hit me, but I danced away at the last moment, making him think he’d hit a clone instead of me.  
  
Problem was, I couldn’t go on like this. Sure, I dodged him for now, but he was faster than me, stronger than me, and my bugs couldn’t hurt his true form.  
  
“You think you’re hot shit? I defeated Lung, I went toe-to-toe with Leviathan, I’m not going to let some pretty boy drug me up you hear me!” I taunted.  
  


_ “Come on Taylor, you have to admit, for a bloodsucking vampire, he is actually pretty hot. Also shit, I mean, his beauty is only skin-deep, literally. Anyway, Belly stabbing time… I’m still not sure if you can hear me now, you know.” _   


He heard me, and dashed forwards, straight at me, not at a swarm clone. I took out my knife, and ducked, the swarm of bugs hiding me from his sight. Timing it, I turned my knife upwards, and swung up the moment he was above me, his claws swiping just above my head.  
  
I’d set it up perfectly, stepping out of his strike with minimal effort and piercing the soft skin of his belly with my blade. Within seconds, blood started pouring out and the beast, Kyle, screamed out in anger.  
  
I took that as my chance to run. I wasn’t sure if my hit had taken him out or not, but if it hadn’t then I didn’t want to be here when he recovered.  
  
I suddenly realized that, just maybe, I’d just killed him by stabbing him in the gut like that. I didn’t feel all that bad about it, the rapey son of a bitch…  
  
As I walked away, and the screaming creature left my range, I calmed myself down, put my swarm away and hid the bloody combat knife in my backpack after wiping it off. I felt the spit-poison, still coursing through my veins, making me euphoric, influencing my thoughts. I’d never done any drugs myself, had always seen them as some black hole in which people disappeared, ruining themselves. I could understand why now. I had almost done so myself, had almost said yes to Kyle’s offer, just to get more of that amazing feeling. The warmth of his embrace, the substance, whatever it was, coursing through my veins, erasing my worries.  
  


The only thing that had saved me was that strange translucent glow, the thing that had punched Kyle in the face somehow.  


_ “So… what’s the plan? I’m guessing you still can’t hear me huh? Makes sense, I think that punch took a lot out of me somehow, affecting the world like that made me tired, in a way. But, if I can punch, then maybe I can make you hear what I’m saying. _

_ No, wait, you can already hear me, you just don’t really know it. I mean, you stabbed him exactly where you needed to stab him. Now, I know you’re good, but you’re not that good, so you heard me somehow, and you followed my advice.” _

  
I wasn’t sure what to do. The drug still coursed through my vein, I didn’t have a place to sleep, and that, well, vampire cape, was probably still coming after me.  
  
I sighed. If only the other Undersiders had been here. I could really use Brian’s steadfast professionalism here, or Lisa’s advice. Even Rachel and Alec were a lot more independent than I was. They’d operated alone before, lived on the streets, fended for themselves. Me? I’d found a team on my first night out, back in Brockton Bay.  
  
I needed help, I just couldn’t talk myself out of it anymore.  
  
Except I couldn’t go to the cops, because they’d put me in the system, and I couldn’t go to the PRT, because they’d put me in the system and also put me in the Wards.  
  
I took out the piece of paper I’d gotten that morning, and looked at it, wondering.  
  
The piece of paper contained an address, and it was signed _Myrddin, professional Wizard._  
  
Could I trust him? Or was he just going to bring me to the PRT? Did I even have a choice? Could I afford not to trust him?  
  


_ “Seriously Taylor? Myrddin of all people? He’s a lunatic, a full-grown man pretending to be a…. _

_ Damnit… he’s not pretending isn’t he… he’s a wizard, a real one, a real flesh and blood wizard because magic is real and ghosts are real and vampires are real, and therefore wizards are also real. He’s a real wizard, and he’s not even hiding it, people just think he’s crazy. I have to admit, it’s a stroke of genius. Hide yourself, and people start wondering about you. Come out and tell everyone you’re a wizard, and everyone just thinks it’s just image, a theme or a delusion. And the best part is, if anyone really needs a real wizard and knows it, they know exactly where to look! It wouldn’t be any more effective if he, say, put an ad in the phonebook or something like that. How the fuck did I only figure this out now?” _

  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
Myrddin’s home was… not what I’d expected. Even though I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. Maybe some sort of ancient stone tower, or a dungeon somewhere, perhaps an old fourteenth century castle with lightning in the background. Or, if he didn’t extend the whole wizard act to his home, then maybe a nice townhouse paid for with his substantial superhero salary, or a fancy apartment near the PRT HQ.  
  
But now, it wasn’t anything like that. Instead, it was in a boring little apartment, in the basement of an old wooden boarding house, which was now an apartment building. The area itself was boring too. The neighbourhood was quiet, and the only thing of note a busted up Volkswagen Beetle in at least three different colours.  
  
I looked at his door. It was made out of hardwood, and reinforced with metal on the sides. The strangest thing was that I couldn’t detect any bugs behind the door. For all I knew, there was absolutely nothing behind it.  
  
I knocked on the door, overpowering my apprehension at talking to the Protectorate hero again. I still hadn’t quite recovered from the hallucinations he’d shown me, I could still see them in my mind’s eye, like it had been seconds ago, not more than half a day. Kyle’s poison still rushed through my veins as well, only slowly being broken down. It helped to think about my swarm, but I couldn’t completely ignore it.  
  


_ “So…. Not what I expected from a famous wizard. Nice door though, means he plays fast and loose with the unwritten rules, at least the parts regarding his own identity. Also explains the part where you know where he lives... how did you get the address anyway?” _   


It took a while, but eventually, I heard footsteps, followed by a voice calling out.  
  
“Who’s there?”  
  
I recognized the voice, it was Myrddin’s.  
  
“It’s me,” I said, hoping that he would remember me.  
  
He evidently did, and opened his door.  
  
Myrddin was dressed in, well, not very much at all. He had underwear, a shirt and a bathrobe. It didn’t look like I’d woken him up, but I had most certainly disturbed him.  
  
“Hell’s bells, you look like shit. What happened?” He asked.  
  
“Some crazy changer tried to recruit me for his gang, someone called Blanka or something like that.”  
  


_ “Bianca Taylor, it was Bianca.” _

  
“Bianca, I presume? She leads the local vampires. This attacker, did he bite you? Please tell me he didn’t bite you or did whatever the red court does to turn people?” Myrddin asked.  
  
“No, he didn’t bite me. He, well, he kissed me. Mouth-on-mouth. Some sort of master effect or a drug or something,” I explained. “I got away, but, I think someone helped me. Are there any invisible capes in the city I should know about?” I asked  
  


_ “Yes Taylor, there is someone like that, she’s called Tattletale, she’s your best friend, and she’s a ghost. Also, I punch vampires now. I wonder if Myrddin can see me. Hey Myrddin, can you see me?” _   


Myrddin didn’t immediately reply, and looked around the corridor behind me, as if he was scanning for an invisible stalker. Had I made a mistake and brought my assailant here somehow?  
  
“You can come in Taylor, the both of you can.” Myrddin said. Wait, both of me? Was this the crazy wizard thing, or the invisible stalker thing?  
  


_ “So, you can see me right? Hear me? Touch me? Feel me?” _   


Either way, I made my way inside, entering his dusty old apartment.  
  
It was dark, barely lit by a small fireplace and a few candles. I couldn’t find any electrical lights, and even his small kitchenette contained an old wood burning stove instead of a proper place to cook. Myrddin, evidently, lived his theme, even back home.  
  
The floor was covered in nice, cozy rugs, and on the walls were bookshelves and tapestries. There was one door, leading to what seemed to have been his bedroom, and I spotted a hinged trapdoor leading down even lower. A large old couch was in a room, and I spotted a human skull on a table somewhere. Myrddin the wizard most definitely lived up to the name.  
  
“I’m guessing you’re tired?” he asked. Before I could answer, he continued speaking. “And also, quite obviously, drugged. I know what the vampire used, and you’ll be loopy for a while, but it should be out of your system in the morning, so you should probably sleep it off before we talk about the situation, and continue our conversation from this morning. You know, the one we were having before you ran away in a panic.”  
  
I nodded at that. I wasn’t exactly proud of the way I’d handled that conversation. Not only had I been unable to bring up so much as a single argument and sat there like, well, like the girl I had been in school, I’d freaked out after seeing one of Myrddin’s many powers. “I think… he said his name was Kyle,” I replied, trying to show him I wasn’t a total shrinking violet.  
  
“Tomorrow, Taylor. You and I can talk tomorrow. For now, make yourself comfortable on the couch, and I’ll get you a blanket,” he said.  
  
I did as he asked, and sat down on his couch. It was old and faded, and one half of it was taken by a large cat that purred at my approach. As I sat down, the animal stood up, and moved himself to my lap. Seconds later, Myrddin grabbed a thick tapestry from the wall and threw it at me.  
  


_ “You have a cat? Of course you have a cat, you’re a wizard. Do you have a broom? can you fly? Is there like, wizard school? You’re a total Hufflepuff right? Don’t you get in trouble by telling everyone you’re a wizard? Are you seriously going straight back to porking that lady in your bedroom once Taylor’s settled in? You’re thinking about it aren’t you? Also, you still haven’t told me whether you could really see me or not. I mean, you obviously know I’m here, but you’re ignoring me. Could you at least tell Taylor I’m back? That she’s not alone anymore? Seriously, this is important you know.” _   


“Please don’t tell the PRT about all of this, mister Myrddin,” I said, pleading with him.  
  
“Mister is the name of my cat, and call me Harry,” Myrddin, or Harry, replied. Well, that sort of resembled an answer didn't it?  
  
At the same time, a human skull that Harry had in the corner of the room suddenly had its eyes lit up. I looked at it. Was it a cheap stage trick using LED’s? Another one of Harry’s many powers?  
  
“Well hello there young lady, it’s very nice to meet you, very nice indeed,” it said.  
  
“Uhmmm, hello?” I replied.  
  


_ “Oooh, talking skull! Now that’s interesting! So what, you’re a necromancer too Harry?” _

  
I got the distinct impression the skull looked at me when it started speaking again.  
  
“I wasn’t talking to you, but hello to you too miss, I’m guessing you’re another one of those wet cats that Harry tends to bring in?”  
  
Before I could say anything, Harry walked towards the skull, and picked it up.  
  
“Shut up Bob, I need you for something,” he said.  
  
“Not as much as I need to look at that young lady over there! I mean, skintight clothes on a body like that? Damn.” Bob replied.  
  


_ “Who, me? Honestly, I’m charmed. Although, by the looks of it, I’m guessing you’re several hundreds of years old, so also eww?” _   


I sank back into the couch, trying not to show how tired and scared I was, and how little sense everything in Harry’s house made. Drug-spitting master-changers… Why did I decide to come to Chicago?  
  
Oh yeah, I didn’t, the government had decided that for me.  
  
“And you? You’re coming along too, I know you can hear me even if it’s hard for me to hear you,” Harry said. Again, I got the distinct impression he was talking to some sort of crazy invisible stalker or something like that, but I already felt myself drift away as Harry made his way back to his, already occupied, bedroom.  
  
Again, the talking skull thing called out.  
  
“Hello there Susan, nice to see you like this, Harry arranged a double date!”  
  
I ignored it, and sank away in the soft couch, Mister purring away in my arms.  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
I was violently awakened by someone else knocking on the door. Now knowing what to do, I stayed in bed, or rather, couch. Mister agreed with that decision. After several knocks, and half a minute, Harry entered the room from his bedroom. I pretended to be sleeping. I didn’t want to bother him, and I still felt light in my head from the poison.  
  
“Who’s there?” he asked.  
  
“It’s me, Michael, you won’t pick up the phone Harry, it’s important.”  
  
Harry opened the door, and from my position on the couch, I could see an older man standing in the doorway, his hair greying, but his frame bulky with muscle. I realized that I recognized him. The man had been at the Leviathan fight with some sort of crazy sword.  
  
“Phone’s on the fritz Michael, someone’s coming by in two days. What is it this time?”  
  
“The vampires, red court. They’re active again. Have been for a few days now, but tonight something’s gotten them stirred up.” Michael said.  
  
Harry glanced at me, obviously convinced that vampires were real, and that I’d fought one. That I was responsible for getting them all riled up.  
  
Of course, a vampire, or at least a member of the vampire gang. It fit, sort of. The charm, the horror beneath its skin, the dangerous skin. It hadn’t been very Stokeresque, but it fit the theme of the gang. I wondered why they’d wanted me? Did they think the bugs could provide some sort of _‘children of the night’_ vibe?  
  
“I’ll be right there, give me a moment,” Harry said. He returned to his room, leaving the door open behind him.  
  
He was talking to someone, I couldn’t really understand what he was saying, but when I sent in a fly, it found someone else lying in his bed, a woman. I quickly led the fly away again, giving her some privacy.  
  
After a few minutes, Harry returned, this time wearing the same clothes he had worn that morning. Not his costume, but not normal person clothes either. He took his wizarding act very seriously. Almost serious enough to make me believe it. Almost. In addition to his normal clothes, he had a small pendant of an eye, hanging around his neck on a little cord, dangling just above the pentacle amulet that had come to represent Myrddin to just about anyone in the United States.  
  
I snuck another glance at Michael, who was looking at an empty spot in the room, a spot which Harry was also looking at.  
  
“And you,” Harry said, pointing with his finger at the spot like someone was standing there. “ _You_ , are coming with us. Because you can help us, because we need to find you a proper sanctuary, and because I’m not leaving you alone with Bob.”  
  


_ “What have you got against me and Bob being together? Is it because he’s a massive perv? No, it’s not just that isn’t it, there’s something else, something about him and me, my power. Anyway, what’s this about a sanctuary? Does it help against the sun? Because that part of being a ghost sucks.” _   


“You sure about this Harry? Shouldn’t you just lay her to rest?” Michael asked. I sure as hell hoped he wasn’t talking about me, and closed my eyes again for good measure. Mister still purred, lying against me. Luckily, it turned out that Michael was talking about the invisible stalker instead.  
  
“We talked it out, and she’s not what she seems to be, at least not entirely,” Harry said. “Plus, she still has her power for some reason, so I think she can help.”  
  


_ “Agreed, I’m not just a pretty spectral face, you know! I’ve got a soul and everything! Also, you can see me! Without needing to enchant a thingy to help! Does that mean you’re a massive pervert like Bob is?” _   


“Oh I know, you’re both a pretty face and annoying. The real problem is that I don’t have any ectoplasmic duct-tape to shut you up,” Harry replied, evidently talking to the non-existent invisible stalker. It was becoming quite clear this was just an elaborate shared hallucination.  
  
“I’m sure she means well,” Michael said. “There is good in her, even if it’s hidden. The Lord would not have brought her back if she did not deserve a second chance.” Michael said.  
  
I tried looking again, figuring out why they both seemed focused on that one spot in the room, and glimpsed something.  
  
It was almost entirely see-though, and wispy at the edges, but just for a second, I thought I saw a naked young woman, or maybe a teenage girl. Maybe a teenage girl wearing a skintight outfit, just about the height Lisa had been.  
  
I must have still been seeing things because of the drug. I closed my eyes again, trying to ignore the spectral Lisa. Even if there was an invisible untouchable parahuman around, it was obviously the drugs and the tiredness that made me think it was my old teammate.  
  
“And her?” Michael said, this time pointing towards me. Holding your eyes closed is easy when you have bugs everywhere to see things for you.  
  
“Mostly related to my other job, better to let her rest now and handle it in the morning. Actually, early afternoon is more likely, I know how hard it is to get a teenager out of bed,” Harry explained.  
  


_ “You’d be surprised; she usually stood up at the crack of dawn to go running. Totally unnecessary if you ask me, but whatever.” _   


“I won’t even start about the last woman in your house,” Michael said. “You already know my opinion on that one.”  
  
He sounded like he disapproved of something. Not of the woman herself, but of her being here? Was it because he was the religious type and wanted Harry to get married?  
  
Slowly, I drifted back to sleep, trying not to dream about my dead friends, and working through the worst of Kyle’s poisonous saliva. Mister purred and turned around in my hands, licking my fingers for a bit. He was nice, if way too big for a normal cat.


	5. Hey, Listen!

“Oh great, what is it this time?” Susan asked, upon seeing that I just walked in with Bob’s skull under my arm.  
  
“Haunted supervillain, no biggie,” I replied.  
  
“Haunted by what? Also, that was a supervillain?”  
  
“I’m not sure yet. Bob, what does she have to say for herself?” I asked the knowledge spirit. I could see that Bob’s eyes, or rather, the tiny yellow lights in the eyes of the skull he was inhabiting, were looking at an empty spot, roughly at the height where you would expect a supervillain’s butt to be located. Bob was nothing if not classy, but the girl’s skin-tight spectral outfit most certainly didn’t help.  
  
“She’s saying her name is Tattletale, that she’s a friend of Skitter’s, that she’s not entirely sure why she’s a weird ghost, and that she wants to make out with Susan,” Bob replied. Being a spirit himself, he saw the world differently, and unlike me, he didn’t need to use his third eye to see a weak ghost like Tattletale’s.  
  
The question, of course, was how she’d made her way all the way over here if she was a weak ghost, and why it had seemed like she still had the extradimensional parasite attached to her.  
  
The third eye, wizard vision, the mind’s eye, true sight, whatever you called it, it was a way of looking at the world and seeing things for what they really are. In a way, it was rather similar to a soul gaze, but it wasn’t as intimate, and not reciprocal. With it, I could see the naked energies that made up the world, rather than only seeing the truth about an individual person.  
  
With Tattletale’s ghost, it had been somewhere between a normal ghost and a, well, parahuman. It was clearly a ghost, the imprint of leftover psychic energy left after death, but there was more to it. And where Taylor was being influenced by the extradimensional slug that had attached itself to her, with Tattletale it seemed difficult to say where she ended and the creature began, and I wasn’t sure about whether that was because she was further along, or because she was a ghost.  
  
I’d heard about parahuman ghosts before, once. Over in Europe, a parahuman serial killer had been killed in battle, and returned as a ghost. But while the ghost showed similarities, it had merely been a very strong ghost, without its parahuman abilities.  
  
“For some reason, I’m rather sceptical about the last part of that claim,” Susan said.  
  
“Tattletale huh, I think I wrote that name down somewhere,” I said. For everyone else, it would be easy to look up the name. They’d grab a computer, go on PHO, search for the name, and find everything they needed. Me? I made technology break down just by being around it, courtesy of me being a wizard.  
  
“Girl, blonde, sixteen years old, ran away from her parents after triggering, joined the same team Skitter later joined, the Undersiders, wears a skin-tight lavender-black outfit. She’s a powerful Thinker, and for a supervillain, she has a relatively clean record,” Susan supplied.  
  
I gave her a look, wondering how she’d gotten so interested in random teenage girls from a different city.  
  
“What? I looked her up for my article on the whole bug thing,” she said.  
  
“She’s also a massive motor mouth, courtesy of not having to stop to breathe, and she’s saying she’s a poltergeist,” Bob said.  
  
“A poltergeist? What’s a poltergeist?” I asked Bob. I wasn’t very up to date on my ghost lore., I knew about wraiths and spectres, but I’d never heard of poltergeists outside of shitty horror movies, and I hadn’t seen all that many of those. I dealt with enough of that stuff in my daily life.  
  
“It’s not actually a thing, she’s just saying that because she punched a vampire,” Bob translated for us.  
  
“Well, I guess I’ll have to figure out what to do with her,” I said to no-one in particular. Teenage parahuman ghosts, just what I needed. What I should have done, had she been a normal ghost, was lay her to rest. A ghost was just a psychic footprint, not an actual person, but something weird was going on here. She seemed to have some sort of self-awareness, had a soul and everything, and she was a teenage girl, both a woman and a child. My chivalric streak, old-fashioned as it may be, wouldn’t allow me to just do away with her.  
  
“In case you hadn’t guessed, she’s asking you not to exorcise her, and also wondering if you actually can, seeing how you don’t look like a priest and everything,” Bob said, continuing updates on the activities of the ghost girl.  
  
First of all, I’d have to cast a spell that allowed me to actually see the girl. Bob was useful, but I couldn’t do everything through him. Then, I’d have to get her some kind of sanctuary, something that would protect her from things like sunlight, like how the skull protected Bob. Preferably, it would be something that allowed her to interact with the world: she was obviously self-aware, and I did not want to doom her to a life of wandering around, unable to interact with anyone but Bob. No-one deserved that. I’d also have to talk with her, lay out some ground rules. Troubled maiden she might be, but she was still a supervillain, or had been at least. It wouldn’t do to have her go off causing trouble and robbing banks the moment she didn’t need me anymore.  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
It had taken a few hours of Susan getting annoyed, Bob making lewd comments, and Tattletale apparently floating upside down a whole lot, but I’d finally gotten everything together for my little ghostbracelet. Now I’d prefer to do this downstairs, in my lab, instead of the rather cramped bedroom, but I really didn’t want to wake up the teenage supervillain sleeping in my living room. So, as Susan was using Bob to talk to Tattletale and ask for info about some sort of article she was working on, I grabbed a piece of chalk, and used it to draw a circle around me. Once I completed the diagram, I send some energy into it, turning it from a chalk drawing into an actual magic circle.  
  
The circle was probably the most basic of magics. Properly empowered, a circle could keep out magical energies, as well as keep them in. It was useful for all kind of things. You could protect yourself from outside attackers, you could keep magical energies or creatures locked within it, and you could insulate yourself from magical energies. In this case, it was that last feature of the circle I needed.  
  
Almost immediately, the constant background hum lessened as I was insulated from all the other energies. Then, I looked at my little makeshift bracelet, a knickknack with an eye on it. It didn’t actually mean anything, but it was a useful tool to focus magical energies on, especially if the spell involved was based around sight. I gathered magical energy, and started chanting. “Spiritus Visus, Spiritus Visus,” while putting the energy into the little knick-knack.  
  
After about half a minute, the spell was completed, and while I started affixing the knick-knack to a little chain, I suddenly heard a new voice.  
  
“So I’m pretty sure you didn’t actually need to do that in Latin, so why not choose a language you’re actually good at?” the girl said.  
  
I looked at her, the spectral body now clearly visible, but the alien creature behind it still hidden. She was young, probably on the cusp of adulthood, with the kind of body that made creeps on the internet create a countdown. She was one of the few female parahumans that could actually pull off the skintight outfit thing properly without having to resort to photoshop, and I understood why Bob had been so impressed.  
  
She had long dark blonde hair, reaching past her shoulders, green, inquisitive eyes, and a set of freckles on her face that made her look adorable rather than gorgeous. She was wearing her costume, but no mask, and she was hanging just slightly above the floor.  
  
“The language insulates your mind from the spell, and using an unfamiliar one means that you won’t accidentally throw around fireballs in polite conversation,” I answered. I had chosen Latin because, well, because I was bad at it. I’d followed a correspondence course, given that the White Council’s meetings were held in Latin, but the course had mostly just made me aware of how bad I was at the language.  
  
“Sooooo, what now?” Tattletale asked.  
  
“Now you’re going to take our spectral ass into the other room, because you’re an underage ghost and I’m doing things that aren’t PG. After that, I’ll get you a sanctuary, preferably before sunrise, and I’ll figure out what to do then when I figure out what to do with your friend,” I replied.  
  
“What, you’re not going to arrest me? I can’t help but notice you have some handcuffs there,” she replied.  
  
“You’re a smart girl, you’ll figure that one out,” Susan supplied.  
  
“Fine fine, I’ll let you get to your carnal desires,” Tattletale said, slowly floating through the door to the living room.  
  
“Also, I can float through doors now, which is absolutely great. I bet you can’t do that!” Tattetale shouted, just barely audible on the other side of the thick old wood.  
  
I turned back to Susan, thinking back to what we’d been doing before Taylor had interrupted us.  
  
“So, where were we?” I asked her.  
  
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she replied.  
  
I thought about it, while most f my brain was starting to get occupied with very different things than thinking about stuff I’d forgotten, when my eyes suddenly went past Bob’s skull, sitting on the nightstand.  
  
Somehow, some way, he managed to make a disembodied human skull look smug. Smug and naughty.  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
I looked back on my house once more time, hoping that nothing would burn down in my absence. I had a supervillain sleeping on my couch, a naked journalist in my bed, and a talking skull stashed in a pile of dirty laundry, so it would probably be okay. In the meantime, I was going vampire hunting with a knight of the cross and a smug dead teenager. Perfectly normal day, or rather, night.  
  
“So, shouldn’t you be wearing your robe and wizard hat?” Tattletale asked.  
  
“When killing vampires? Not exactly good PR,” I replied.  
  
The real problem, of course, was that not everyone in the protectorate and the PRT were aware that Bianca’s group consisted of actual bloodsucking inhuman monstrosities, rather than normal supervillains.  
  
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. So, what’s the deal?” she asked.  
  
“I got a call from father Forthill, he had a young girl show up, asking for sanctuary. Said she was being hunted by vampires,” Michael supplied. “He called me because he thought the girl’s clothes were suspicious.”  
  
“Anyone we know?” I asked him.  
  
“I don’t think so, he said she was wearing a robe of some sort, and not like the one you or Wanton wear,” Michael said.  
  
“Let’s see, robe, teenager, girl, not a local, doesn’t have any back-up because she ran to a church instead, pretty sure it’s Rune,” Tattletale said.  
  
“Rune?” Michael asked.  
  
“Striker, telekinetic, can move around large boulders and such. She was sent to juvie and triggered in solitary, after which she joined some family members in the Empire 88 back in Brockton. Lost most of her team, doesn’t have a secret identity. She was probably looking for a new team or something like that, and not interested in joining the vampire club. Given that Skitter was approached the same night, I presume this Bianca is trying to recruit as many parahumans as she can in one go, probably preying on the ones without support structure, using that spit of theirs to addict them into working for her.”  
  
I had to admit, having a high-level Thinker on our side was actually rather useful.  
  
“So, the question is, who’s their next target?” Michael said.  
  
“Well, given their strategies, I’m pretty sure they already got either Mush, Skidmark or Squealer. One of them probably told her about the strategy. Problem is, I don’t know which one of them survived the battle. Oustide of that, I think we’re better off looking for locals that fit the bill,” Tattletale said.  
  
“There’s one of those I can think of, but we’ve never even seen the person responsible, so I don’t think Bianca’s people will be able to find them either,” I replied.  
  
“So, what’s the plan then?” Michael asked.  
  
“Long-term? I’ll inform the PRT, and we’ll focus on getting anyone working for Bianca out alive. Her targets are parahuman, and those are worth too much to kill without reason. In the short-term, we might be able to track down her spawn with the help of our new assistant,” I said.  
  
“Ooooh, vampire hunting, cool, do I get a top hat?” Tattletale asked.  
  
“No, and you can’t wear sunglasses indoors either,” I replied.  
  
“Awwww,”  
  
“Let’s get into the car, Tattletale, you can show us the way,”  
  
“We’ll need to hurry, before they get away,” Michael said. “We can’t let them go on and corrupt more people.”  
  
“Agreed,” I said, as I walked to the Blue Beetle.  
  
Michael walked to the other side of the car, as Tattletale froze in mid-air.  
  
“Seriously? Seriously? That’s your car? Are you fucking kidding me?” she asked. “I know the government doesn’t pay much, but seriously?”  
  
“Should you really be complaining about the transport he’s providing?” Michael asked.  
  
“Just saying, it’s not very inconspicuous,”  
  
“We don’t need to be inconspicuous, the lord will guide our way,”  
  
“You know, I’d say you’re full of shit, but… God’s real isn’t he? Just like ghosts, and wizards, and vampires? Sweet baby Jesus I need to start going to church,” Tattletale replied.  
  
“Wouldn’t that be difficult? Sanctified ground and everything?” I asked as I entered the car, motioning for Tattletale to take a seat in the back. I wasn’t entirely sure how the protections provided by a house of faith worked, just that they worked.  
  
“If she is properly repentant, I should be able to figure something out with father Forthill,” Michael replied.  
  
I turned my key, and activated the engine of the old car, hoping desperately that it would hold out until we managed to find our target.  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
The area where Skitter had been attacked was somewhere in the city center, in alleyways between old, tall buildings. It didn’t take long to find the rather large amount of bugs gathered around a puddle of blood on the floor.  
  
“This is where she stabbed it, right in the stomach,” Lisa, as I’d learned she preferred, told me.  
  
“It showed its true form?” Michael asked her.  
  
“Yeah, the bugs gnawed straight through the flesh suit. Skitter’s really terrifying when she wants to be,” Lisa replied.  
  
“I can see that, you know, what with the spiders and everything,” I replied.  
  
“Says the guy throwing fireballs around like it’s nothing,” she replied.  
  
“Focus, we need to stop this vampire,” Michael said.  
  
“Let’s see, from the trail of blood, the lighting, relative traffic density in the surrounding area…“ Lisa mumbled. “That way,” she pointed.  
  
The way she randomly picked a decision and stuck with it strangely reminded me of the way Michael would sometimes be. Only instead of working through faith, she got her knowledge from, well, from wherever her power got the knowledge.  
  
We followed her as she told us where to go, turning through alleyways between old buildins that had been low quality when they were built, let alone now. Every now and then, she’d point out a few drops of blood on the floor, or some slime where the vampire had brushed against a wall too roughly. Once, Michael spotted a piece of skin, part of the beast’s fleshy outer suit, the part that it used to pretend to be human.  
  
Eventually, while scouting ahead, Lisa stopped after looking around a corner.  
  
“Guys? I think we’re too late,” she said, her voice trembling. Whatever she had seen had obviously shaken her.  
  
Upon seeing her reaction, Michael drew his sword, Amoracchius, from its scabbard. If Michael was to be believed, the holy blade contained one of the nails that had been used in Christ’s crucifixion. I wasn’t entirely sure I believed that, but it was very clear that it was very powerful, a symbol of faith in its own right. Right now, it glowed faintly with a blue light. In battle, it would look like it was on fire, slicing straight through any defences, magical or normal. Even Leviathan had feared the blade.  
  
For just a second, I wondered if Leviathan was something new that was related to the parahuman phenomenon that had only been named after the biblical creature, or whether it was actually related to it. I put the thought out of my mind, I could speculate on it when we weren’t in mortal danger.  
  
Following Michael’s example I drew my blasting rod in one hand and my staff in the other, and removed the safety on my punching ring.  
  
“It’s… well, he’s distracted, angry, almost feral.”  
  
“Just stay behind me,” Michael said, trying to sound reassuring.  
  
When Michael and I turned the corner, I saw what had gotten Lisa so worked up. The vampire, a slimy, gargoyle-like creature, was crouched on all fours, lapping up drips of blood from the floor. Its victim, a homeless man that had evidently been sleeping in the rough, had been disembowelled, his corpse draped over a shopping cart filled with bags, sucked dry of blood.  
  
I felt something rise up in my throat, and swallowed, trying to keep it down. Michael had no such problems, or perhaps he simply had the strength of will to ignore it completely. He held up his sword, and charged forwards at the bloodsucking beast.  
  
Maybe it was the sound we had made, maybe the vampire had spotted us, or maybe the holy light coming from Amoracchius had drawn its attention. It didn’t matter what had set him off, but the vampire managed to retreat away from Michael by jumping upwards, and then hanging on to the side of the building, perched on the walls like a spider.  
  
It turned its head, blood still dripping from its inhuman jaw, and looked at me.  
  
“You, the wizard. Good, if I kill you, Bianca will forgive me for my failure,” it said.  
  
Oh great, amazing, the vampire was out for my head, and desperate enough to go for it.  
  
I didn’t take the time to think of any witty retort. Instead, I just raised by blasting rod.  
  
“Fuego!”  
  
The fireball flew from the tip of my wand, straight at the vampire. At the last moment, It jumped, trying to dodge the roaring flames. It was too late, and the flames clipped its legs, setting it on fire.  
  
It then crashed to the ground, stopping, dropping and rolling to try and extinguish the flames. Seeing the damage I’d caused, I took out my staff, and called upon my parahuman ability. Deep within me, I focussed on the enchantment I’d bound it with, making sure to only let through the things I wanted to use. With my staff, I drew a glowing sigil in the air, connecting to a pocket dimension I’d prepared some time ago.  
  
This one specifically, I had filled with water, and with the help of father Forthill, it was now filled with holy water.  
  
I unleashed it, an explosive spray of holy water blanketing the alley, the burning building, and the vampire. Michael, somehow, managed to be in exactly the place he needed to be for the water spray to miss him.  
  
“I have to admit, that went a lot smoother than I’d expected,” Lisa said, still slightly shocked by the sight. “Almost anti-climactically so.”  
  
“Could you please never say that again?” I asked her.  
  
“Why? I mean, you do understand that it doesn’t actually influence further events right?”  
  
“You say that, but, how many world-shaking revelations have you been wrong about in the last few days?” I answered. As we were talking, Michael was cleaning his sword, and I was wondering what to do about the vampire. I’d probably have to call it in, pretend to explain the situation to my bosses in the PRT. I wasn’t the only person in town with fire powers, but I couldn’t let them think that one of the more innocent villains was responsible for killing the vampire, or its prey.  
  
“Wait, you mean that shit actually works too?”  
  
“I don’t think so, but I’ve been wrong before.”  
  
“I need to go; can you two handle this situation?” Michael suddenly asked.  
  
“Another hunch? Guidance from above? Sure, I can handle this,” I answered.  
  
Lisa and I walked, or hovered in her case - she seemed to like her newfound ability to fly - back towards the Blue Beetle, only for my worst fears to come true.  
  
For the past few weeks, the PRT had gotten sporadic reports about destroyed cars and other wreckage, the metal reshaping itself into different forms, like it was some sort of demented, animalistic transformer. It left the vehicles completely useless for anything but modern art exhibitions, but it wasn’t associated with any violence or criminal behaviour. For now, the perpetrator had been assumed to be a new parahuman testing their power, someone who while not very cognizant of collateral damage, was probably not a problem or a threat.  
  
Before now, I had agreed with that designation. It made sense, I was sure it wasn’t a spirit or anything like that that was responsible, and it seemed like something that was very much somebody else’s problem.  
  
This time however, it was personal.  
  
The Blue Beetle was gone from the location where I’d parked it, and a couple hundred feet from where I’d left it, there was a piece of wreckage in the exact colours of the vehicle. That is to say, blue, green, red and white. Once, the Blue Beetle had been entirely blue, but that had been a few years ago.  
  
Opposite it was the wreckage of what seemed to have been a nondescript white van, twisted much like the Blue Beetle had been. From the looks of it, the two cars had been fighting each other, as the asphalt and pavement in the area had been torn apart.  
  
Someone had used my car as some sort of weapon, and that someone wasn’t me. It was actually rather insulting.  
  
It also made me rather angry, seeing how the Beetle was one of the few vehicles that didn’t consistently break down when I drove it.  
  
“At least it went out with a bang?” Lisa supplied, holding up her ghost hands, and I wasn’t quite sure if she was taunting me or trying to comfort me. It was probably both.  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
“Harry? Please don’t tell me you’re involved in this one?” Lieutenant Karin Murphy asked upon seeing me.  
  
“Not this one, other than being the victim,” I replied.  
  
Murphy was a short-statured woman, with blue eyes and blonde hair. That last part wasn’t immediately obvious, since she was wearing the type of face-covering helmets PRT troopers were known for. She was rather high up in the ranks, usually serving as squad leader, but sometimes coordinating multiple squads on larger operations. In addition to that, she was also one of the few people in the PRT that actually believed my claims of being a wizard, and believed in the existence of the supernatural in addition to the parahuman.  
  
“I thought I recognized that piece of junk from something. I have to say, I don’t see any difference.”  
  
“Haha Murph, very funny.”  
  
Secretly, I had to admit that it was indeed rather funny. Lisa agreed, and she was rolling on the floor laughing, only instead of rolling on the floor, she was doing so in mid-air. I was pretty sure she was overreacting for comedic effect, but that didn’t make it sting any less.  
  
“ _Not this one_... dare I ask?” she asked.  
  
“Vampire, three hundred meters into the dark alleyways. It was feeding on a homeless guy after having been fought off by a parahuman it was send to recruit,” I told her.  
  
“You want me to handle it? Keep Revel off your back?” she asked.  
  
“Would be nice, I have too much on my plate as it is,” I replied. “By the way, can I catch a ride to HQ? I need to get there before sunrise.”  
  
“Sure, some of the guys will be heading back, I’ll see you later?” she asked  
  
“Sure,” I replied.  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
Lisa and I arrived at the PRT HQ with an hour or two to spare, and made our way towards the wards HQ. More specifically, towards Tecton’s workshop. Lisa’s constant need to give input on anything from people’s showering habits to their driving skills had given me some inspiration for her sanctuary, but it would have to be one of those permanently borrowing without asking situations.  
  
The Wards HQ itself, with its interchangeable, moveable walls and its big set of tv screens that was, officially, there to watch key points in the city, and unofficially there to watch movies and play games, was almost empty, except for Wanton, who had apparently decided to stay the night.  
  
Wanton was, simply said, a fan. Of me. That was weird, because I knew myself, and I wasn’t the type of person that should have fans of any kind.  
  
Worse however, was that he was also a fan of what was, in his eyes, my ‘pretending to be a wizard’ act. He was utterly convinced that I was just some sort of crazy Trump, and he wanted other people to think he was a wizard as well.  
  
Most of that was achieved by wearing a costume with lots of flowing cloth, and yelling a Latin catchphrase whenever he used his breaker ability. When confronted with the fact that he could only cast a single ‘spell’, he simply told people that that made sense, because he was only an apprentice wizard.  
  
It would all be very flattering if it wasn’t so very annoying.  
  
“Hey Myrddin, whatcha doing?” he asked enthusiastically, immediately launching himself from his position on the couch once he saw me come in.  
  
“Nothing much, say, do you remember those costumes you guys wore to cape-con last year?”  
  
“Yeah, why?”  
  
“Do you happen to know where that little floaty thing Tecton made for Cuff’s costume is?”  
  
“Sure, you need it for something?” he replied.  
  
“Just, you know, a power thing,” I explained, keeping it vague.  
  
Obviously, this had been the wrong move, as Wanton suddenly got very interested.  
  
“Can I watch? Are you making something cool with a new power?” he asked.  
  
“I need it to make a sanctuary for the ghost of a dead supervillain,” I told him.  
  
“Oh, so you have a new master power? Making ghosts of people? Sounds cool, I don’t think PR will like it though,” Wanton said.  
  
Tattletale, in the meantime, was just laughing her spectral ass off, obviously enjoying the fact that I had fans. Well, we’d see who had the last laugh, she still didn’t know what she was getting into.  
  
At a rather frantic pace, Wanton led me to the storage area, digging through several discarded items before finding the little contraption. Flying objects weren’t Tecton’s specialty, but he was good when he put some work into it, and it was a rather simple piece of technology once you got past the anti-gravity components. The best thing was, it was one of the things he’d built after his power had managed to adapt to the general background effects of magical energies, so it wouldn’t short out whenever I sneezed in its direction.  
  
“Oh no, oh hell no, you absolute bastard, no way I’m going in there… Although…. I could actually do some great stuff with that, I think. People wouldn’t even be able to complain that I was being annoying, I’d just be in character,” Lisa said, finally understanding the fate I had in store for her.  
  
“So, we’re doing this now?” Wanton asked.  
  
“Patience, my young noodle, I want to do this properly, we’ll need to go to my lab first,” I replied.  
  
“Cool, cool cool cool, you think I can get a lab?” he asked.  
  
My lab away from lab, as I called it, was a small area the PRT had set aside to indulge me in what they deemed to be the more arcane part of my powerset. If Myrddin thought he needed a copper circle, then it’s easier to provide him with one than to tell him his powers don’t work like that.  
  
It was all rather basic, and for any actual magical research I’d have to go back home to my basement, but it looked good on the tour, and it had a simple summoning table and a small workshop for when I needed to replace my blasting wand or my staff, the only object that my actual parahuman ability used.  
  
I placed the little machine in the middle of the circle, closing it by turning a stone that made the copper line complete, and started to work.  
  
Half an hour, and several jubilant remarks from Wanton later, I’d completed my work, and had made the contraption into a more hospitable home for any spirit that wanted to be inside of it. I motioned towards Lisa, who had gotten bored about five minutes into the work, and had been criticizing everything from Wanton’s costume choices, to his naming choices, to his career choices, to his choices of personal idols.  
  
She floated forwards, into the tiny drone, trying to figure out how the whole process worked, before she melted away, only vaguely visible with the use of my little ghost-seeing charm.  
  
“Oooh, interesting, I can do all kinds of stuff, also, I think I can power this thing and ooooh those were the blue LEDs, okay, let’s see how this gravity thingy works and ooh yeah I’m flying and I’m doing this all wrong aren’t I, let me start again.  
  


**Hey, Listen!"**


	6. A Real Journalist

I woke up to the sound of someone singing, and water running in a shower. For just a second, I thought I was back in the shelter, but my bugs informed me of my location before I could even open my eyes.  
  
Opening my eyes showed me that I was still in Myrddin’s dimly lit basement apartment, with a nearly depleted fire crackling away in the fireplace. Something moved under my blanket, and I was surprised by a couple of paws, followed by Mister’s head appearing from underneath the covers, asking me for head-scratches with soft meowing. I obliged, and he seemed to accept me.  
  
Then again, he’d spend the entire night using me as his own personal heater, so he was probably happy with me already.  
  
I slowly sat up, and noticed a pounding headache, one that was probably an aftereffect of the vampire-guy’s drugged spit. Or maybe it was the singing, both explanations seemed possible.  
  
Looking around, I noticed the little kitchen, set off to the side, and went for a glass of water while thinking about the events of the day before.  
  
The day itself had been strange, including the encounter with the supervillain vampire I’d stabbed in the stomach, but the real weirdness had started once I’d arrived here.  
  
And then there was the Stranger. The invisible figure that had saved me last night, as well as Harry’s weird behaviour, as if there was someone else there. I mentally went over the capes in the local Protectorate, but I was pretty sure there weren’t any strangers in there. Then again, if there was one, they would probably keep it a secret, in order to make him or her more effective. At least that’s what I would have done, you never knew what kind of stupidity ruled the PRT’s thought processes.  
  
As I finished the glass of water, Mister started meowing next to what must have been his water bowl. I grabbed it, refilling him for it, and he ignored it while walking to a different empty bowl, obviously the one usually filled with his food.  
  
“I guess he forgot to feed you before leaving in the middle of the night?” I asked him while I started looking around trying to find where Harry kept his cat food. Mister had kept me company through a night filled with bad dreams and strange, drug-induced emotions, so I figured I owed him some breakfast.  
  
It also was a good excuse to take a good look at what must have been the strangest apartment I’d ever seen. The furniture was a strange mixture between old-fashioned, second-hand, and high-quality, and my guess was that it had all been old and second-hand before he’d gotten his job with the Protectorate. Seeing high-quality pans that couldn’t have been more than a year or two old right next to a wood-fire stove was just plain weird.  
  
“He keeps the cat food in the closet above the sink,” a female voice said, taking me by surprise.  
  
I looked around, and spotted a woman in the doorway to Harry’s bedroom. She had straight dark hair cut to the nape of her neck and eyes of the type you saw in eyeliner commercials. I pegged her as a Latina, slightly shorter than I was, maybe twenty-five years old or so.  
  
“Susan Rodriguez, investigative reporter,” she supplied when I kept looking at her.  
  
“Taylor,” I replied.  
  
“Better known as Skitter,” she supplied, saying it as if the words had no weight at all.  
  
“How did you?”  
  
“I’ve been investigating the whole bug thing, had it pegged as a guy called Billy Towers, an exterminator that died in a freak beehive accident, but investigated you in order to cover my bases. Anyway, when a girl with your build and hair shows up to Myrddin’s home in the middle of the night asking for help? It was an easy guess. Plus, I’ve been talking to your friend’s ghost.”  
  
Her explanation made sense, especially if you counted in the fact that she already knew Myrddin, and might have known he’d had a conversation with Skitter yesterday morning. I sighed, I’d kept the back of my head free because I loved my hair, but it looked like it could bite me in the ass here. Sure, back in Brockton, I was just one in many teenage girls that Skitter could be. Here however, there probably weren’t all that many teenage Brocktonite refugees, let alone tall girls with long, curly black hair.  
  
And, of course, she had been talking to my friend’s ghost. So she was quite obviously insane. Ghosts were real, sure, but they were also safely locked away in the birdcage with their master.  
  
“A ghost, yeah, sure,” I answered her.  
  
“I’m guessing you’re one of those people that don’t believe in the supernatural, aren’t you? Even after having that encounter with the vampire?”  
  
“It’s this new thing called a parahuman, they study it in universities? Ever heard of it?”  
  
“And it just so happens that hundreds of parahumans, the world over, have the exact same power-set, that happens to coincide with age old stories about vampires?”  
  
“Power-granting Trumps, like Teacher and Galvanate? I mean, seriously, this has been studied, there’s reputable, well-written articles about it and everything.”  
  
“Ouch, no need to make it personal,” she replied, smiling.  
  
I turned away from her and grabbed the cat food, finally filling an indignant Mister’s bowl. He immediately started lapping up the hard pellets, completely ignoring me now that my job had been done.  
  
“Anyway, I should’ve known better than to make a bet with a high-level Thinker, I guess I owe her twenty bucks now, although I’m not sure what a ghost is going to do with the money,” she continued.  
  
“Who are you talking about?” I asked her.  
  
“Your friend, Tattletale. You know, the ghost I told you about?”  
  
It annoyed me, the casual way in which she made fun of my losses. Pretending ghosts were real all to make a quick buck from gullible idiots who believed in that sort of thing.  
  
“Very funny, I guess crazies attract each other right?”  
  
“You’re in a wizard’s apartment, hiding from a vampire, which you only beat with the help of your undead teammate.”  
  
“Lisa is dead! Why the fuck are you pretending like you talked to her!” I shouted at her, losing my temper.  
  
She sat down on the couch with a sigh.  
  
I stood back against the wall, pointedly ignoring her, and looking at Mister, who was happily eating away at his food.  
  
“I’m going to take a shower,” I said, walking towards the door of Harry’s bedroom, form where I’d heard the water and the singing.  
  
“The hot water doesn’t work,” Susan supplied.  
  
I ignored her, and closed the door behind me when I found the bathroom. It was small, only sort of clean, and it was very much not warm, with none of the warm air and steam you’d expect after someone had taken a shower.  
  
I made sure there was a dry towel, and tried the water before taking my clothes off.  
  
It was cold, not freezing, but not warm enough to get a nice shower. I took off my clothes, jumped under the stream of water, screamed for a second or two, quickly rinsed every part of my body, and got out again before becoming undercooled.  
  
The worst thing was, by the looks of it, the hot water wasn’t just broken, it was never there. The shower didn’t even have a heat dial.  
  
I cursed, quickly drying myself off and putting my clothes back on again. But, I had to admit that the shower helped, made me just a bit less angry at Susan, and helped relieve the headache.  
  
I walked out, and saw Susan still sitting on the couch. Mister, the filthy little traitor, was sitting on the armrest, happily getting petted by her.  
  
I looked at her, and decided to be the bigger person.  
  
“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” I told her.  
  
She turned to me, took a deep breath, and started talking.  
  
“And I’m sorry for being insensitive, I should have known it was a sensitive subject, and should have brought it up more gently. But, I’m telling you, she was there. Harry just took her to work to make her a sanctuary, something she can use to get around and talk to people. Interact with the world. I mean, I only know she was there, and I can’t give you a definite answer on whether she was a ghost or something else. Maybe she had a second trigger, something that made her capable of surviving death. Like the Butcher, or whatever Glaistig Uiane does to people. If you think that’s a more logical explanation, then you can believe that,” She said.  
  
“So what, you want me to believe she second triggered with a new power-set that made her a ghost?”  
  
“You bought the vampire power-set, so why not this?”  
  
“Because it’s ridiculous!” I said, taking care not to let the conversation deteriorate into yelling again.  
  
“I know, which is why I choose to believe it’s her spirit, living on beyond death. She wanted to help you, you know? It’s what drove her to invite you to her team. Everyone dying, you losing your home and your family, it means she had unfinished business, enough to bring her back, or at least stop her from moving on.”  
  
“You’re crazy.”  
  
“And you control bugs with your mind. I’m not asking you to believe my interpretation of things, just to keep an open mind.”  
  
“You can’t just expect me to, well, to believe she’s back.”  
  
“She punched the vampire, and she told you about his weakness, the stomach. Isn’t that enough to at least trust me a little bit on this?”  
  
“No…” I replied, although I wasn’t sure. Was Lisa the Stranger? And how had I known to hit the creature in its apparent weak spot? Telling me about that seemed like it was the kind of thing that Lisa did, but the whole thing was just…  
  
“Look, how about you follow me around for a few days? Call it an internship of sorts. If you still don’t believe in the supernatural after seeing what I see for a week, I’ll eat my hat.”  
  
I looked at her, and she seemed to being entirely serious. Then again, crazy people usually were. But, she was at least sane enough to have a real job that didn’t rely on her having superpowers, so maybe there was something there.  
  
“And if you need a place to stay, I have an empty room in my apartment, as well as hot water that actually works.”  
  
It… I had to admit, a warm shower actually sounded like it would be a good idea.  
  
“So what, you’d have me get you coffee?”  
  
“I was thinking of something closer to you helping me out with those bugs of yours, all sneakylike and stuff like that, get into places I can’t usually get into.”  
  
I thought about it for a second, deciding on how much to tell her. I didn’t really know her all that well, but then again, Myrddin seemed to trust her, and he seemed to be a decent person, and she was offering me a place to sleep and a warm shower.  
  
“I can’t actually hear or see with them, not well at least. Just sort of feel where they are,” I told her. “Although, maybe I could use them for tiny microphones and cameras? Carry them around at a distance or something like that?”  
  
“Sounds like an idea, means we immediately have evidence too, and footage we can use,” Susan replied.  
  
“So, when do we start?”  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
Susan’s apartment was much closer to the city center than Harry’s had been. It also wasn’t in a basement, which helped improve it as well. The only thing that was actually missing was Mister, who would have greatly improved it with his presence. Not that I was a cat lady, it was just that Mister was a really nice cat.  
  
“So, let’s try this out shall we?” Susan said, placing her laptop on the table.  
  
The laptop itself was unimportant. The important thing was what it was connected to. Three tiny cameras and a set of microphones, currently being carried around the apartment by my bugs.  
  
“What’s the range on these things?” I asked her.  
  
“The box says a thousand feet, but I don’t exactly believe that claim.”  
  
I looked at the screen of the laptop, on which the three different camera feeds were being shown. One of them showed me and the laptop from above, and was being carried around by a group of spiders. Another was pointed out of the window, overlooking the streets below. The third was half-covered by spiderweb and looked at the bottom of a dragonfly.  
  
I moved the swarm around it a little, trying to get a different grip, and within a few minutes I had it looking in the direction I wanted, its screen largely unobstructed.  
  
“Looks like it might work,” I said.  
  
Susan walked to the window, opening it, “Then let’s do it live.”  
  
I commanded my bugs, sending them out into the city, carrying their clandestine equipment. It wasn’t all that stealthy yet, but it wasn’t as noticeable as an actual person with a camera was. Plus, it helped me actually see what my bugs are seeing, and gave some context to the things I was able to piece together with my mental map.  
  
Once they were properly at range, half a block away, I turned on the microphones, and we heard the sounds of the street. People talking about absolutely nothing, cars driving by, that sort of thing.  
  
“Looks like it works,” I told her.  
  
“Seems like it, makes for a neat little trick, should help us get footage of some more exclusive places.”  
  
“Wouldn’t that be illegal?”  
  
“Says the bank-robber.”  
  
“I told you, I’m trying to turn things around.”  
  
“Think of it like this, they can only sue us if they admit that the footage is real.”  
  
“That doesn’t sound like a very good excuse,” I told her.  
  
“Look, journalism is about getting the scoop, figuring out what’s going on. Sometimes, you have to break some laws in order to find the information that the people deserve to know.”  
  
“Sounds like a worthy cause, but didn’t you publish an article about how Jack Slash was a vampire sympathiser?”  
  
“Exactly! What do you think Crimson was? And that just shows, I’m not afraid of the Slaughterhouse, and I’m not afraid of the government. Not if the people have a right to know the truth!”  
  
“I’m not entirely convinced, but I can believe that you believe that.”  
  
I made the insects roam around with the cameras a bit more. Two of them were being carried around on the outside of the building, and the smallest one was getting carried around by a group of flying bugs.  
  
“Hey, I think we’ve got Wards incoming,” she said. “You want to check out how well the mic’s work?”  
  
I looked at the screen she was pointing at, and noticed what she was talking about. Three of the Chicago wards were on a patrol, taking advantage of the weekend to get some work done.  
  
“Let’s see, we’ve got Wanton, Annex, and I think that’s Grace?” I said.  
  
“Yep, seems to be, probably just a general patrol if they’re here though, showing the flag and everything. Now, let’s get those microphone’s in closer.”  
  
I focussed on the small groups of bugs carrying the microphones, and brought them closer, hiding them beneath ledges and behind metal grates to stop them from noticing the insect activity.  
  
Luckily, none of them were Thinkers, nor were they particularly observant. Someone like Lisa would have noticed almost immediately, but the cameras helped me see what was visible and what wasn’t, and allowed me to hide my mini-swarms in broad daylight, as long as people didn’t look too closely.  
  
“So, uhm, Grace, you know that friend of yours?” The microphone picked up. It took me a few seconds before I matched the voice to Wanton.  
  
“Which one? I mean, you know some people have, like, multiple friends, right?” Grace replied.  
  
Teenage drama, as I’d expected from a bunch of high-schoolers with superpowers. Then again, the Undersiders had been teenagers too.  
  
“I think he means the hot one,” a third voice that could only belong to Annex said.  
  
“No I don’t,” Wanton defended himself.  
  
“Yeah, sure, you wanted to ask for the ugly one’s phone number,” Annex replied.  
  
“So, which one are you talking about? I mean, you’ve met them exactly once, so don’t go pretending you’re not after whichever is the hot one,” Grace said.  
  
“He’s obviously talking about Molly,” Annex said, half-joking.  
  
“What, no, ewww,” Wanton replied.  
  
“Why ewww? What’s wrong with Molly? She’s nice,” Grace said.  
  
“Just, you know, black lipstick and everything? Not my thing.”  
  
“So superficial, not what you’d expect of a hero.”  
  
“Well, like you said, I can only really judge them on their looks.”  
  
“So, which is the hot one?”  
  
“She’s not the hot one, but, I mean the one with the short brown hair? You know, she was wearing that Canary shirt at your party.”  
  
“Wait, you think Olivia is the hot one?”  
  
“I told you, I’m not saying she’s the hot one.”  
  
“Why isn’t she the hot one? What’s wrong with Olivia?”  
  
“Nothing it’s just… help me out here Annex,”  
  
“No way man, you dug your hole, you lie in it.”  
  
I turned down the volume on the laptop, and looked at Susan. “You know, for spying on a bunch of superheroes, their conversation is remarkably boring,” she said.  
  
“What, you’re not going to write about the scandalous love life of the Chicago Wards?”  
  
“Not really, I mean, first of all, they’re children, and speculation like that would dig into their civilian identities. That’s not a good idea. Plus, no one is really interested in that beyond pure scandal, the real scoop lies in figuring out stuff about the more famous heroes.”  
  
“Oooh, maybe you could write an article about how Myrddin is feeding info to a journalist because she’s sleeping with him.”  
  
“Maybe you could stop being a smart-ass,” Susan joked.  
  
I turned on the sound again, trying to keep up with the moving patrol with my bugs, and seeing if I could match the sounds the microphones picked up to the sounds the bugs heard. I couldn’t, but it didn’t hurt to try.  
  
“So, guess what Myrddin did this morning?” Wanton said, having changed the subject.  
  
“Oooh look, conveniently relevant conversations,” Susan said to me.  
  
“Let me guess, he threw a piece of garlic at you in order to check if you were a vampire?” Annex asked.  
  
“Nahh, I bet he drew a circle around you and told you you couldn’t leave because I was a magic circle,” Grace added in, obviously happy with the fact that the conversation had moved away from which of her friends was the ‘hot one.’ The solution to Wanton’s problem had, obviously, been to tell Grace that she was already the hot one, but that he couldn’t possibly date her because they were on a team together, but you couldn’t expect boys to be able to do that.  
  
“It’s not that I couldn’t leave, It’s that I would lose my wizard powers, that’s how it works.”  
  
“Dude, you’re not even a Trump, let alone a wizard.”  
  
“Fuck off, I can be a wizard if I want to.”  
  
“Don’t fucking swear Wanton, do you want another workshop on proper image?” Grace said.  
  
“What was that about relevant conversations?” I asked Susan after the conversation had deteriorated into whether or not Wanton was an actual wizard instead.  
  
“Just… you need to have patience while eavesdropping. That’s like, the first rule of journalism.”  
  
“Just what kind of journalist are you?”  
  
“I work for a tabloid that published articles about Hookwolf being an actual werewolf, what did you expect?”  
  
“Not a Hexenwolf? That’s what Harry called them.”  
  
“Hexenwulf means external artifact, Hookwolf obviously used his own power.”  
  
“Yeah, right… his own parahuman power.”  
  
I turned away from the conversation, and back to the superpowered teenagers.  
  
“Anyway, he said it was a sanctuary or something for a ghost,” Wanton said.  
  
“Yeah, right, so, obviously a master power,” Annex replied.  
  
“Yeah, but a really cool one. Remember that thing Cuff had? He turned it into something that can actually talk and shit.”  
  
“So, did Heathrow yell at him again?”  
  
“Nahh, he didn’t even tell the guy.”  
  
“So, what ghost is it supposed to be?”  
  
“Dunno, he said it was a supervillain, but she didn’t sound like one, so I think it’s just Myrddin being Myrddin.”  
  
“Ooh, Revel’s gonna be mad. Remember that thing with the faerie?” Grace said.  
  
“What, Toot-Toot? Toot-Toot was cool,” Wanton replied.  
  
“And totally not PG.”  
  
“One hundred percent hilarious though.”  
  
“Still wondering how someone’s power eats that much pizza,” Annex said.  
  
“Harry’s power eats pizza?” I asked Susan.  
  
“No, I think Toot-Toot is an actual faerie that Harry met once,” she replied.  
  
The conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door, and I quickly turned off the sound, and alt-tabbed into a different window. Whoever was visiting didn’t need to see what we were looking at.  
  
Given that, who was knocking on the door? I checked with my bugs, but they didn’t actually find anyone standing there, at least nothing like a person. Further down the hall however, I did find someone slowly walking towards the apartment. Someone tall. Myrddin?  
  
I turned around, and saw Susan opening her door, and just when I started wondering why they were knocking instead of using the doorbell, I noticed what had been making the sound.  
  
A small, round-ish metal ball, giving off blue lights through a few LED’s, was floating in the air using what looked like some sort of tinktertech anti-gravity thing, and it looked like it had simply been throwing itself against the door repeatedly in order to knock.  
  
“See, I told you they’d be here!” It called out in a feminine voice, obviously talking to Harry, who was still walking towards the doorway.  
  
As I heard the voice, I couldn’t really believe it. I recognized it, recognized it very well. It was Lisa’s voice. Harry had taken Lisa’s voice patterns and used it for his fucking powers…  
  
The blue drone rushed forwards again, and bumped into the doorway, as if the door was still there. It reminded me of something from a game I once played with my father, back when I was a lot younger.  
  
“Hey, the fuck? You have a glass door?” the thing asked.  
  
“I told you, it’s a boundary, she has to invite you in,” I heard Harry say.  
  
“Well, come In Lisa,” Susan said, playing along with Harry. Of course, because she actually believed it.  
  
The next time the drone flew forwards, it didn’t bounce into an invisible barrier. Instead, it flew straight at me, stopping right before my face.  
  
“Hey, good to see that you’re safe,” it said.  
  
“Fuck off Harry, I’m not in the mood for your delusions,” I replied. I really didn’t want to have to deal with his bullshit.  
  
“Look, Taylor, it’s… Susan, could you and Harry give us some privacy?” the drone said.  
  
“Sure thing, don’t ruin anything,” Susan said, stepping out of the door. From what my bugs could sense, she was talking to Harry, being all flirty.  
  
“Taylor… We should have a talk. About Coil, about a lot of things,” it said.  
  
Strange… how had Harry known about Coil? Or had his power just somehow gathered that information from thin air.  
  
“I know what you’re thinking right now, so just let me finish. I mean, we didn’t really split up on the best of terms. What with me manipulating you, and you being a hero, planning to betray us from the start,” the drone said. I could almost believe that it was really Lisa, almost.  
  
“You knew? For how long?”  
  
“From the start you silly, before we even met. Thinker, remember? Look, back before I joined the Undersiders, I was living on the streets. I didn’t really have a plan or anything, and I just wanted not to be close to my parents. Anyway, that’s about when I first met Coil, at the point of a gun-“  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
It took about half an hour, Lisa’s voice droning on in my ears, telling me her story. Her brother, Coil, how she met the Undersiders, Coil’s power, meeting me, wanting to help me. The thing with Dinah, what happened during the Endbringer fight, the monster, Echidna, getting into the shelter, which was apparently filled with several supernatural nasties that it started cloning, Eidolon destroying everything within the shelter, Leviathan smashing her body apart within half a second, and waking up above the sunken city. The worst part of it was that she didn’t need to breathe, let alone drink anything to keep her throat from drying out  
  
“Lisa,” I interrupted.  
  
“Yeah?” she asked, even though she probably already knew what I was going to say.  
  
“Just shut up and give me a hug?”  
  
Lisa dashed forwards, bumping into my chest. The metal was cold and hard, but that didn’t matter, because I had my best friend back.


	7. It's a really bad name, I know.

I slowly drank the hot tea Susan had made, trying not to show too much amusement at Lisa moping around, unable to drink in her little iron shell. It was good, much better than the stuff Brian used to get at the coffee shop. Across from me, Harry was nursing his own drink, and he looked like someone preparing himself for a heavy conversation.

“So, let’s talk about the elephant in the room, or rather, the eldritch interdimensional alien in the brain,” Harry suddenly said, without an ounce of theatrics.

Susan almost did a spit-take, just barely managing not to get herself covered in boiling water. “The what now?”

“Powers, I’m guessing?” I said. “That thing I saw…”

“Correct, to be precise, you saw the source of my powers, my parahuman ability.”

“So, Lisa and I have one as well?” I asked, thinking back to the strange thing that I had seen the first time I’d looked Harry in the eyes. It had been massive, otherworldly, incredibly powerful, but somehow locked up as well, chained down, with Harry in complete control.

“Yes, although there are some slight differences. For Lisa, It’s more accurate to say that she is the source of her powers, especially since she died. As for you, I’m afraid that yours is not nearly as under control as mine,” he said. He looked sad while saying it, like he was disappointed with the facts.

“What do you mean? I’m in control of my power right?”

“Well, yes, but also no. Sure, you can control the ability it is giving you, but that’s by design. The problem is that, while you’re doing that, it’s slowly digging itself a way into your psyche, bringing the two of you closer together, until eventually, you end up like Lisa here.”

“What do you mean she’ll end up like me?” Lisa asked. I wondered whether she really wanted to know the answer, or was just asking it in order to make the conversation flow better. Her power gave her access to all kinds of titbits of information, and she usually didn’t have to ask for clarifications.

“The more time and influence it gets, the more it influences you. At the start, it’s just a gargantuan eldritch abomination that has decided to give you superpowers by digging into your brain. After a while however, especially with people heavily relying on their power, your brain and your power start synchronizing better, until the power is part of you, and you are part of the power. In some cases, that means you get a strange ghost, in other cases, well, you probably know about people like the Nine.”

“Wait, you’re saying I’ll end up like…” I asked him. Susan and Lisa were also listening intently. The Slaughterhouse Nine were some of the most notorious capes around. A roaming gang of serial killers with up to nine members at a time, the group had a high turnover rate, recruiting as they went while they got caught up in lethal fights with both heroes and villains. The response to the Slaughterhouse being in town tended to be rather similar to what happened during Endbringer fights, although on a more localized level. For some reason, the Protectorate didn’t pull all stops when going against them. Once, they’d had an excuse. One of the members of the Nine, the Siberian, had killed Hero, one of the strongest capes ever to live. But the Siberian had disappeared a while ago, and hadn’t been seen for over a year.

“Probably not, but I’m afraid I just don’t know. All I know is that a good friend of mine told me that, when he looked Jack Slash in the eyes, he saw that they had been merged to such a degree that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began,” Harry said, and it took me a while before I realized that he must have been talking about a wizard instead of a parahuman.

“So, to summarize, the more you use your power, and the longer, the more influence it has over you, until the difference is negligible. And like you said, the really horrible people have been completely merged. So I have two questions. First of all, why? What’s the reason for these things to give people powers, and then start synchronizing with them? Secondly, why am I not a crazy serial killer?” Lisa asked.

“Well, that’s the problem; I have absolutely no idea, on both counts. Powers just appeared out of nowhere a few decades ago, and as far as we know, they have absolutely no relation to magic. Even worse, they shouldn’t actually exist.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, we’re on Earth Bet right now, and it’s called Earth Bet because there’s also an Earth Aleph. In addition to that, it is presumed that there is a near endless amount of alternate universes, and those alternate universes are where the things giving people powers are located. You’re with me so far, right?” he asked

I nodded, and Lisa was getting enthusiastic, sensing that this was going somewhere interesting.

“The problem, however, is that there are no alternate universes.”

“That doesn’t make sense, like you said, we have proof of their existence,” I said.

“Yes, and it seems highly unlikely that it’s all some sort of highly advanced illusion. Beings far stronger than I am have checked, and concluded that whatever comes through the portal from Earth Aleph is real.”

“Even though it isn’t,” Lisa said, having made a few leaps of logic that allowed her to see where Harry was going with this. “Because there’s no such thing as alternate universes. Quick question, are there wizards on Aleph?”

“Well, that’s the problem, there aren’t any,” Harry replied, and I started trying to understand what he was getting at.

“So, under multiverse theory, there’s a near infinite amount of universes, and according to what you’re saying, the entities that give us our powers are located in some of those universes. There is absolutely nothing that makes this universe special, and there are a thousand universes like Aleph that are almost entirely the same,” Lisa said.

“Exactly.”

“Yet our universe, our world, is the only world, and it has creator gods and wizards and vampires and angels and all that sort of stuff, and it’s all unique and precious, and there are no alternate universes, at least not in the way that science-fiction shows have them,” Lisa continued.

“Exactly.”

“And that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Exactly.”

“Look Harry, I’m not sure if you’re hearing me, but that doesn’t make any sense! You can’t have mutually exclusive laws of physics! It’s ridiculous! Either multiverse universe is true, or its not!”

“Exactly!” Harry said for the fourth time, an impish grin spreading over his face.

“Wait, hold on. So, if I understand this correctly, powers and magic work on different laws of physics, that are somehow true at the same time?” I asked.

Harry turned to me, had a silly smile on his face, and just said “Exactly.”

“So how come you’re a wizard with powers, and Lisa is a ghost with powers?”

“I have absolutely no idea, but I do have some theories. For me, I think it’s because, even though I’m a wizard, wizards are still largely human. I can only presume that the source of my powers latched on to me without fully understanding what it was getting into, and now it’s stuck within my binding, the part of me that’s a wizard and the part of me that’s a parahuman being separate. As for Lisa, I have no idea, you’d have to ask her.”

“Well, I don’t know exactly how either, but from what my power is telling me, and I mean like my power power, not alien creature talking to me power, although they’re one and the same and maybe it is actually the creature power talking to me, by the way we really need a new name for them. Anyway, as I was saying, I think my power went rogue or something. It liked me, it was sad that I died, if it could even be sad, and then it found my ghost and attached itself to that. As to how I have a soul, from what Harry has been saying, it seems more like we, my power and I, have a soul together. We were starting to merge, and when my body died, we were metaphysically close enough to each other that it was more like losing a limb than dying. But, according to the rules of physics magic works under, I still died, so I became a ghost. We, my power and I, got curious, saw the ghost, and pushed ourselves into it, creating, well, whatever I am. As for why it doesn’t seem to happen more often, I think that’s because of what my power does. See, most thinkers have some sort of extra senses or something; they gather information to do stuff like simulate the future, that sort of thing. Unlike them, I, or We, simply draw conclusions from the things I see on my own, without using outside knowledge. I’m pretty sure that most power creature things are just as confused about the whole thing as Harry is. We were just in a unique position to capitalize on the newly opened possibility,” Lisa spoke, not even stopping to breathe between sentences.

“Which is why a couple of people I know will be very interested in our floating chatterbox here,” Harry said.

“Like, dissection interested, or?” Lisa asked him.

“Some of them, maybe, but most of them wouldn’t. The thing is, it seems like it is impossible for magic to cross over to other dimensions, at least without help. The enchantment on my power only works because it interacts with my brain, which is firmly located in this world. Shortly after Behemoth first appeared, some of the more powerful things in the Nevernever, the ones that are best described as forces of nature or gods, got together in an uneasy peace to remove it from reality. They gathered energy, and unleashed one hell of a spell that destroyed the entire creature in an instant, poofed it out of existence as if they’d killed its parents in the past.

Problem is, Behemoth and the other Endbringers are multidimensional creatures, and the moment its presence in this reality was gone, its presence in the other dimensions bled through, and replaced the missing matter immediately. Because it’s a multidimensional creature, and no matter how strong, the spell couldn’t affect the other dimensions,” Dresden said.

“So, why didn’t they just use indirect magic instead? Use all that power to shoot a cannonball at it or something? The Endbringers have an effect on us, so we should be able to similarly affect them,” Lisa asked.

“Same reason Eidolon or Alexandria can’t kill it. It’s too sturdy. And sure, there are a few things that could probably destroy it in that manner, but not without collateral damage that would make us go the way of the dodo, dinosaur style. Thus, we’re at an impasse, and no-one can do anything until they figure out a way to make magic multidimensional,”

“And given how I am made of magic, yet also have powers, you think I might be able to help,” Lisa continued.

“Maybe, we’ll see. Right now, I’m working on figuring out my pocket dimensions. Their workings are somewhat in-between magical places like the Nevernever, and full alternate dimensions like Aleph, and magic works at least partially inside of them.”

“So, you said you were shielded right? Is that why we’re talking about this? Because you’re going to shield me too?” I asked him.

“Sadly no, I can’t. Or rather, I can’t do that without incredibly dangerous consequences. I would have to go into your mind in order to place those shields, and that’s black magic. It’s illegal, it’s wrong, and it corrupts the user in a way that is much worse than the corruption caused by using your power. The reason I’m telling you is because you have a right to know, and because I was sure you’d believe me instead of thinking I was just being crazy,” he replied. He looked disappointed and annoyed, like someone who disliked a rule, but still followed it because he understood, on an academic level, why it was there.

That, well, that was a disappointment. Apparently, there was a crazy alien thing in my head that was going to merge with me, and there was nothing I could do about it except hope that I’d end up like Lisa, instead of ending up like Jack Slash.

My life had just been getting better and better these days.

“Look, I know it sucks, I just don’t want you to get into trouble because I didn’t tell you anything about what was going on, and hey, maybe our flying flashlight over here can figure something out. And trust me, most of the things that could help you with that, you wouldn’t want to pay their price,”

“I see…” I replied.

Susan, having lost interest in the conversation, suddenly arrived with a newly brewed pot of hot coffee and a few snacks. I could only assume that she’d gotten disappointed once it became clear that the conversation was centred on actual metaphysics instead of juicy magic gossip.

“Maybe spread out the heavy, worldview-smashing revelations out a bit more next time?” she suggested.

“Sure, I’ll just ask the universe to stop making sense a little bit at a time,” Harry returned.

“Sooooo… what now?” I asked.

“Well, I have a patrol planned in in about an hour, so I’m going to prepare myself for two hours of putting up with Campanile joking about his massive intellect, and his massive muscles, and his massive, well, you know.”

“Ego?” Lisa suggested.

“That too.”

“Anyway, I think we should go check out the church, try interviewing Rune, make an article about vampire politics about it or something,” she suggested.

“Wait, Rune’s in town?” I asked.

“Yeah, pretty much the same story as yours, except for the whole ghost friend thing, the vampires tried to recruit her as well, she got spooked, and she took refuge in a church. It’s why Michael showed up in the middle of the night.”

“Michael?”

“We both know you saw him Taylor, you’re not all that good at pretending to sleep.”

“Didn’t know his name was Michael.”

“So, vampires trying to recruit teenage girls? Sounds like a scoop, let’s check it out shall we?” Susan said. “Interview with a supervillain, secret vampire plots, it’ll be a hit.”

“And this time when people disbelieve it, they’ll be wrong!” Harry added in cheeckily.

“Hey, don’t insult my readership!” Susan replied, half-joking.

“Anyway, she might actually react better if you drop by than if I went for a visit. The Protectorate coming along would probably just get her to panic, while you’re a fellow villain from Brockton,” Harry said.

“Doesn’t mean we’re friendly. Remember, she’s a Nazi, I have, had, black friends,” I replied.

“Still, she’s what, sixteen or something? Can’t you at least try to help her? I don’t like it when young supervillainesses are left to fend for themselves in an unknown city.”

I understood what he was getting at, but, I didn’t really agree. Rune was different, she was an actual villain. Me, I’d just been, well, I hadn’t been a Nazi. “She’s literally a Nazi, are you telling me I should forget that because she has some sort of sob story background?”

“Says best undercover operative in 2011,” Lisa interjected.

“It’s not the same,” I replied, idly swatting at her floating orb.

“It’s not, but, she does have a relatively sad story. You know, for a Nazi. See, the thing is, she triggered in juvie, solitary to be precise. So, she had something horrible happen to her in prison, and she most definitely didn’t want to go back, so her only option was to join a gang.”

“So what, we ask her to go back to prison, is that the plan? You just explained why that wouldn’t work.”

“She helped in the Endbringer attack, doesn’t have any kills on her record, and doesn’t seem to have reconnected with her fellow gang members. I can probably get Heathrow and Revel to sign off on probationary membership, as long as she behaves,” Harry said. “And if that doesn’t sound like a good idea to her, could you tell her that we won’t come after her unless she causes trouble?”

“Fine, I’ll tell her,’ I replied.

***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***

Saint Mary of the Angels was, in one word, massive. Most people, when they entered the building, would look around, trying to get their head around the size of the cathedral. Me? I managed to be amazed while we were still two blocks away. From what the bugs inside the cathedral told me, it was probably bigger than people thought it was when they came in. I didn’t just see the big room in the middle of the building, no, I got access to the rest of the building as well. The small offices, bathrooms and other such things, as well as a room with several beds built into the wall, and two people talking to each other. One of them, as far as I could tell, was dressed like some kind of priest, probably a catholic one. The other was smaller, and wearing a robe. Rune, in all her villainous glory.

“So, how do you want to handle this?” Susan asked me, notepad and pen at the ready.

I responded by showing her how I’d hidden my costume, the silk part of it at least, under my pants, with the upper half tied around my body.

“I was thinking of going in as a cape, but, I’m not really sure. Do you know anything about this place?”

“I know it by reputation. The man in charge, Father Forthill, provides refuge for people hiding from supernatural nasties. Seems to be a good man, who’s familiar with the supernatural. The building itself offers protection because it is holy ground, so most things can’t enter.”

“You find Rune yet, Taylor?” Lisa’s voice called out. She was hiding on top of my head, inside a sunhat that Susan had provided for me. She’d even created tiny holed on the front side of the hat, so that she could see through it. Which made absolutely no sense, since the little drone she was inhabiting didn’t have any optical sensors at all, but she said that it was necessary. I’d never been a ghost, so I just trusted that it made sense to her.

“Yeah, she’s talking to a priest, probably this Forthill you were talking about.”

“Okay, so, here’s the plan. You change into the silk, but keep off the mask. Then, we knock on a backdoor, wait for the priest to arrive, and tell him Michael told us about the situation. If that doesn’t work, we say we have a message from Myrddin for Rune. That should at least get us past the door. From there, just let me handle it, I’ll make sure Susan gets her interview,” Lisa explained.

“At least it sounds like a plan,” I replied.

Five minutes later, I was dressed in nothing but thick silk, knocking on the door of a church. Inside, I felt Rune get startled, and noticed the priest standing up, walking towards the door.

As Father Forthill opened the door, he took one look at me, sighed, and asked “vampires?”

“Sort of, they approached me last night. Michael told us about what happened to Rune and we wanted to talk to her,” I said, trying to keep to Lisa’s outlined plan.

“Well, you might make more progress than I have. But I’ll warn you, she came here for protection, so I won’t allow you to bring her to harm,” he replied. I wasn’t entirely sure how serious he was about it. On one hand, he was just a priest, and I was a cape, so there probably wasn’t all that much he could do if I tried something. On the other hand, he was a priest, so maybe he had magical priest powers or something like that. I wasn’t quite sure how it worked, but you probably couldn’t be careful enough. If ghosts were real, so were exorcisms, probably.

“Wasn’t planning on it, just wanted to talk,” I replied.

“And the spirit? Is she with you?” he asked.

Tattletale, reacting before I could, floated upward, taking my hat -which did not match my costume at all- with her.

“Yup, name’s Lisa, I’m dead, but also not. It’s complicated,” she said, doing her best impersonation of a flying sun hat.

“Very well,” Forthill said, he wasn’t as surprised as I’d thought he’d be. “Give me your word that you won’t cause anyone inside any harm, and I’ll allow you in.”

“Ooooh, I get to swear a magical oath? Sure, I promise not to harm anyone inside,” Lisa replied. I wasn’t quite sure if something like that was actually binding or not. Was there some sort of magical rule that meant spirits like Lisa couldn’t lie? Was it just promises? Or was it just good manners not to break them?

“Very well, come in,” Forthill answered, leading us into the building. Susan was waiting outside somewhere, fully aware that Forthill probably wouldn’t be as forthcoming if we’d started out the meeting asking for an interview.

“I presume you’re from Brockton too?” the man asked us.

“Yeah, we are. Made it out alive after the fight was lost,” I replied.

“Well, you did at least,” Lisa continued. “Me? I had to wait for Myrddin to help me out.”

Forthill opened the door to the room Rune was sitting in. “Catherine? I’ve got some visitors for you here.”

Rune, or Catherine, apparently, looked at us, recognizing the dull grey silk of my costume.

“Skitter,” she said.

“Rune,” I replied.

“Tattletale!” Lisa added, feeling left out.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Heard you had a run-in with some vampires last night, wanted to talk to you about it.” I told her.

“What, you’re here to make fun of me for that?” she asked, accusingly.

“Not really, the same thing happened to me last night. He got me with that drugged spit of his, I just barely managed to stab it and get away,” I replied.

She calmed down when hearing that, becoming less combative, but still wasn’t entirely off guard.

Lisa flew forward, until she was floating in front of Rune’s face. “I was thinking they probably recruited one of the Merchants, who then got them into this whole spit-addiction thing. I mean, unless this is general vampire behaviour, but I presume they usually just turn people with powers they want. If they can, I’m not quite sure on what part of vampire movies are actually real. I mean, Stoker didn’t have anything in it about heroin-based saliva, but then again, it didn’t really come up. But, assuming that they can turn people, and that they keep their powers, that sounds like a better idea. Only if you do that, you’ve now got a cape vampire that probably doesn’t like the idea of working for an older vampire that’s not a parahuman, paravampire, whatever. Anyway, that would probably lead to internal rebellion and paravampires leading the vampires, so the current boss vampire, this Bianca woman, probably didn’t want to go there. So there’s that, and the fact that they obviously just started doing this, so I presume it’s one of the Merchants that got her the idea. I just don’t know which one, because I’m not use which ones survived. I just hope it’s not Skidmark, because he’s just a complete asshole and-“

“Do you ever shut up?” Rune said, interrupting her.

“No, she doesn’t,” I told her.

“So, what do you need me for?” she asked.

“Two things,” I said.

“First of all, Taylor got a kick-ass internship with a local journalist, and we were wondering if you wanted to do an interview about this whole vampire thing. Second, we had a talk with Myrddin, and he wanted us to pass a message,” Lisa said.

“Tats, the fuck? You just gave my name to a Nazi,” I said.

“Come on Tay, you came here without your mask, and you already knew hers, it’s not like a big deal. Plus, ex-Nazi, I presume?” Lisa said, turning back to Rune.

“Sort of… mostly they were family, and they’re all dead now,” Catherine said.

“So, anyway, Myrddin wanted us to tell you he can get you a place in the wards, or failing that, leave you alone.”

“Me? Join the Protectorate? Are you crazy?”

“That’s the same thing I said,” I replied. “Just saying, there’s option.”

“If I may interject?” Father Forthill said, suddenly joining the conversation. I’d almost forgotten he was there. “If it’s the Protectorate specifically that the two of you have problems with, there are other options.”

“Haven,” Lisa said.

“Amongst others, the Catholic church is also known to take in devout parahumans looking for a higher calling,”

“Sorry, not really religious,” I told him.

“Same here, and hey, I’m already dead anyway.”

“I don’t know…” Rune said. Unlike me, it seemed like she was actually thinking about taking him up on the offer.

“There’s no need to be hasty,” Forthill said. “If what these girls are saying about the Protectorate’s disposition is true, then you can stay here as long as you need in order to come to a decision.”

“He said that, as long as you didn’t start doing any crazy shit, they’d stay off your back,” I said.

“So, translated from bureaucrat speak, if you’re joining up with another team, change your cape name and pretend to be someone completely different, they won’t look into it too deeply,” Lisa said.

“Now, about that interview?”

***

Catherine’s story had been rather similar to mine. She’d made her way to Chicago, roamed the streets being restless and reckless, and eventually got approached by a vampire girl that called herself Kelly, that Lisa determined was probably the sister of the man that approached me. Susan immediately latched on to that, and I could already read the headlines about lesbian vampire recruitment in my mind. I dimly wondered if there was any truth to it. On one hand, Catherine was apparently a religious neo-Nazi, so she was probably homophobic. On the other hand, she was probably homophobic, which meant she was probably actually gay.

Unlike me, she hadn’t been poisoned. Instead, she’d managed to get away and crush the vampire with a piece of an old building. The vampire, or at least its true form, had survived, at least until she’d crushed it again. The whole thing had thoroughly freaked her out, and she’d looked towards the faith she’d long since left behind for support. All-in-all, it was a nice little human interest story about religion, wayward youths, supervillains and vampires. Or as Susan called it, jackpot!

After the interview, we’d started talking about some more mundane things, like life as a teenage supervillain, and the situation in Chicago, as opposed to the bay.

“Don’t really know. I mean, Brad talked about stuff every now and then, things he killed. Mostly when he was drunk, which was most of the time. Thinking back on it, maybe some of those were vampires,” she said.

“Could be, would be pretty well hidden though. Then again, Brockton was quite clearly a cape town, maybe that kept out most of the supernatural nasties. Or maybe we just didn’t recognize them as such. Seems like it’s rather easy for them to hide by pretending to be parahumans,” Lisa replied.

“Just to check, you’re sure Hookwolf wasn’t a werewolf?” Susan asked, still looking for proof of her hypothesis.

“Pretty sure he was just a normal psychopath. Fun guy to hang out with though, once you get over the violence. Brewed his own ale and everything. “

“Speaking of werewolves, you hear about the ones in town here? I heard they’re cops, changing into wolves to take down supervillains outside of the law. Interdepartmental rivalry with animal transformation, whoda thunk it?” Lisa said.

“Yeah, I heard about those, though without that backstory. I just heard they hung out around the university somewhere.”

I looked at Susan and Lisa, and they returned the gesture, “university?”

***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***

The campus around the University of Chicago wasn’t as interesting as I’d thought it would be. Then again, that was mostly because it wasn’t the college in Brockton Bay, which I loved because my mother had worked there. Sure, the buildings were nice, and there was a lot of greenery, but it just wasn’t the same.

Susan was running around, interviewing people, and I was looking for people who might know something, all the while scouting with my bugs. We hadn’t brought the cameras, mostly because we hadn’t brought a laptop, so I had to do it manually, trying to figure out what the senses of the bugs were seeing. It was hard work, and was giving me a headache, but Lisa told me it would probably get better from her position under my hat.

“Ask her, the one in the yoga pants, she looks like she might be a werewolf sympathizer,” she whispered softly.

“Lisa, this is a college, all the girls are wearing yoga pants,” I replied.

“Well, it’s not my fault I can’t see anything in here,” she sassed back.

“Yeah yeah, whatever,” I whispered back while approaching a new victim for Susan.

I started walking towards Susan’s next victim when something startled Lisa, and she suddenly started talking again, barely able to keep quiet.

“Paras!” she whispered in my ears.

“What?” I asked.

“Paras, the name for the thing that’s our power. Because together with a human you have a ParaHuman, and they’re also Parasites of a kind!”

“That… is actually quite good. Did you come up with that on your own, or did your Para help?”

“On my own, I think. Not sure,” she replied.

Then, having reached the student, a short Middle-Eastern girl, I cut off the conversation with Tattletale.

While talking to the woman, my bugs sensed something on the edge of my reach, in an alley behind one of the student housing units.

It was larger than a normal dog, hairy, walked on four feet, and seemed to be wearing something approximating clothes. Within seconds, it was joined by a second figure, then a third, a fourth, a fifth and a sixth.

Absolutely fantastic. That meant that there were more than just four hexenwolves in town.


	8. A Moonlit Romp

The MacFinn manor was, in one word, imposing. Set on the outskirts of Chicago, Its gardens were better described as a forest. The building looked old, made out of stone and thick wooden beams, and it was the type of building that, had it been less well kept, would probably be designated as haunted by the townspeople.  
  
The house, and its surroundings, was also protected by an imposing fence of metal and stone.  
  
“You absolutely sure about this Green?” Olivia asked, still looking at the building through the gap in the fence.  
  
The area was dark, and lacked streetlamps, but it was wealthy enough not to attract any attention from the seedy underbelly of Chicago. Hell, if the rumours were to be believed, half the people in that seedy underbelly lived within a few blocks of this place. But the moon was full, and the stars were bright, and a lack of attention served Olivia and her impromptu gang just fine.  
  
“Like I said, Harley is always out of town during the full moon, my mom says everyone knows that. He probably has some sort of crazy religion that means he’s having naked sexytimes under the moonlight with his cult or something,” Judy replied.  
  
Judy, or Miss Green right now, came from one of the wealthier families in Chicago, and from what Judy had told her, one that was intimately involved in secret societies like that. Then again, secret societies were apparently really fucking boring in real life, involving old people getting together and exchanging secret handshakes.  
  
“Yeah, but, security systems? I mean, he’s rich right?” Pink, better known as Molly Carpenter, asked from behind the pink hood she was wearing.  
  
“From what I‘ve read online, the place is haunted, with crazy monsters guarding the mansion, people keep talking about seeing some sort of beast looking at them from the shadows behind the fence,” Jane, the resident computer nerd, wearing a yellow hood, said.  
  
“Cape security?” Judy asked.  
  
“If so, I can take them,” Olivia replied. “Now, enough talking, let’s do this.”  
  
Olivia’s hand went to her head, and she pulled down her metal mask, decorated with a crazy lopsided smile and two little antennas. The smile was because it was awesome, the antennas were to distract any enemies. The idea was that they’d think she was controlling her minions with them, instead of with her mind.  
  
She held her hand forwards, and touched the fence when she saw something moving on the other side, and two feral eyes looking straight at her. For just a second, she flinched, and her compatriots followed her example.  
  
Once she looked again, the eyes were gone, nowhere to be seen.  
  
“Did you see that?” she asked.  
  
“What? Is someone coming? Did you see something?” Molly asked.  
  
“No, don’t think so. It was probably nothing, just my fucking nerves.”  
  
For the second time, she touched the fence. And this time, she unleashed her power, winding through the iron bars of the fence.  
  
Her power worked with single object, however those were defined. In this case, her power thought the iron of the fence was clearly separate from the stone base. It didn’t matter, one section was enough.  
  
The iron started bunching together, changing shape by bending and breaking. The process was a bit slower than it was with cars, seeing as the entire thing had no moving parts, but within five seconds, she had a minion made out of cast-iron bars. It wasn’t much, but even this thing would thoroughly beat any human interloper that tried to attack them.  
  
Plus, there was a gap in the fence now.  
  
“Come on, let’s go through before anyone sees us,” Judy said, jumping over the knee-high stones, running for the manor. Olivia, not one to be outdone by one of her minions, joined her, running for the side of the manor. Behind her, she heard the other girls rustling through the undergrowth.  
  
In about half a minute, they’d reached the side of the manor, hidden on all sides by trees, shrubbery and fencing. From up close, the building seemed even bigger.  
  
“So… what do we do now boss?” Molly said, half-joking with the boss part.  
  
“We get inside,” she replied, holding her hand to a promising looking wall.  
  
Her power almost immediately told her that the wall was too big, seeing as how it was counted as part of the superstructure of the building itself. Annoyed, Mockshow started walking around the building, looking for a way in.  
  
“Over here,” Red called out, and Olivia ran to her position, her metal minion on her heels, immediately noticing why Red had called out when she came closer.  
  
There was a large glass wall, probably added in the last few decades, and behind it, an indoor pool.  
  
“Fucking Jackpot!” she said, touching the glass. This time, it did work, and the glass started folding in on itself, half melting, half breaking without shattering. Olivia was only dimly aware of the sound of the other girls splashing into the pool, she was creating art.  
  
Sure, cars were fun, big, and easy, and yesterday night’s project had looked amazing, mostly due to the multi-coloured nature of the source materials, but she’d never actually tried glass before. The way it was half-fluid, the way in which its movements were more organic than mechanical, it was fascinating.  
  
This was why she didn’t see the alcohol until Molly held a glass in front of her nose.  
  
“Yuck, what’s that?” she asked.  
  
“Irish whiskey, there’s an entire bottle of it,” Molly said. Olivia looked over her assembled minions, most of which had dropped the colour scheme in favour of getting half naked and jumping into the pool. Then, she grabbed the glass, and chucked it back before she could regret it.  
  
“I wish Katherine was here, she’d love this,” Judy said from the water.  
  
Katherine, better known as Grace. She’d been a part of the group for a while, most of it before Olivia had joined them. When she’d gotten powers, she’d decided to join the fucking white hats, and had invited the rest of them to the party.  
  
The amount of goody-two-shoeing boringness she saw in that one meeting was enough for Olivia to decide that she wasn’t going to do anything like that with her powers, and ever since Grace had joined the wards, she had been completely boring.  
  
Feeling the liquid courage of the whisky, Olivia kicked off her shoes and socks, and took of her pants, so that only the leather bodysuit, which covered about the same stuff as a swimsuit, remained. Then, she ran forward, and jumped, making a massive splash, almost immediately followed by two even larger ones, courtesy of her minions. Sure, they weren’t as big as they could be, but they were still heavier than a teenage girl.  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
Tonight’s outing, Olivia thought, had been a success. Sure, half her minions were drunk, but that had been the idea from the start.  
  
Okay, maybe not the alcohol, but the rest of it? Partying in some rich idiot’s house? It had been fucking awesome.  
  
She looked at her other minions, the ones that weren’t friends, but just telekinetic robot thingies, or was that racist? The one made from the iron fence looked like a dog, or some other four-legged creature, with long metal bars extending from it that worked as weapons, as well as climbing tools. Right now, it was standing on the wall, something which only worked because of how small it was.  
  
The other one, the creature she’d made out of glass, was sitting right next to her. This one wasn’t analogous to any real creature; instead, it was more like it rolled, with pieces telekinetically kicking out to get it rolling. It would probably be even more useless in a fight, but it looked cool. She pushed it forward, rolling it towards the row of cupboards in the kitchen. There had to be some snacks somewhere in this mansion, right?  
  
As the creation approached the cupboards, she made it slash out with a shard of glass, breaking open two cupboards. She looked at the contents, and saw that it was nothing but a whole lot of dried meat and expensive dog food. Weird, there hadn’t been any other signs of dogs in the house, so what was that all about?  
  
Her line of thought was interrupted by screaming. It was a girl’s voice, coming from deeper inside the house.  
  
Molly, Pink, she’d gone exploring beyond just the kitchen and the pool.  
  
Olivia, Mockshow, rushed into action, she mentally told her two minions to get moving, and ran for the kitchen block herself, touching it, and spreading out her power.  
  
Luckily, it counted, and she twisted the metal, stone and plastic with her mind, creating a larger, sturdier creature. It was something that would actually stand up in combat.  
  
Then she made her way further into the building. Behind her, the large minion followed, trying to push its way through the hallways. When it didn’t fit, it made room.  
  
After two hallways, she bumped into Molly, or rather, Molly bumped into her.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Olivia asked.  
  
“I just figured out why nobody ever sees MacFinn during the fullmoon, he’s a fucking werewolf!” Molly replied.  
  
Yeah, right, a werewolf. Molly had probably spotted the dog and freaked out at the sight of it.  
  
“Where?”  
  
“Down there, there’s a hidden room,” she said, still trembling, and pointing at a small spiral staircase.  
  
“If this is a joke, you’re calling me boss for a week,” Mockshow replied.  
  
Nonetheless, she went down the narrow staircase, and entered the basement.  
  
The basement itself looked like it was a big storage room. She thought she spotted wine barrels, gardening equipment, and a whole lot of old furniture and stuff. In the corner stood an absolutely massive TV, made bigger by the fact that it wasn’t a flatscreen. It was dusty, and it didn’t look like they used it a lot. Mockshow looked around, and spotted what Molly had meant. An iron door, hidden in the corner of the basement, had been left open, probably by a screaming Molly, running upstairs as fast as she could.  
  
She checked that all three of her minions were present, and walked towards the door. She heard the sound of claws scratching concrete, and what sounded like panting. Seemed like mister MacFinn preferred to keep his dogs locked up in the basement.  
  
As she reached the door, she saw the dog in the dim light of the basement lamps behind her.  
  
It was a big doggy. A really big doggy.  
  
Jane had once shown the rest of them movies of a girl that had been active in Brockton Bay, a really badass villain whose power worked on dogs. She made them as large as a minivan, covered in muscle and bones, and she didn’t take shit from anyone. Hell, her cape name had been Bitch, although the idiots over at the Protectorate demanded everyone call her Hellhound.  
  
Those dogs had looked big. This one? This one looked bigger.  
  
She took a step to the side to let her minions through, and ran up the stairs.  
  
“Girls! It’s time for plan GTFO!” she yelled.  
  
At first, her friends just looked at her, having thought Molly was just overreacting to something. Then, a loud snarl was followed by the sound of glass crashing into concrete, followed by the sound of half a dozen teenage girls running for their lives.  
  
She was about to run after them when she heard a second crash, and a third, and then the sound of stonework crumbling. The giant dog-thing had destroyed her little critters, and was working its way out of the concrete room.  
  
She ran through the house, idly touching large object here and there. A grand piano, a dinner table that was way too large for anything but a medieval banquet, and two exercise treadmills, one of which was strangely large.  
  
What she was looking for however, was something else. Something that every wannabe rich guy supervillain was contractually obliged to have. She just didn’t know where it would be.  
  
Her search was interrupted by the sound of things fallen down, followed by a claw tearing through one of the doors leading into the room she was in.  
  
The wolf-beast-thing appeared behind the door, murder on its face. It was snarling, with drool dripping from its overly large teeth.  
  
With a thought, she commanded the grand piano to smash into it from the side, it’s strings having taken the role of tendons. Before it could smash into the creature, it turned, and swiped at it with a claw, smashing right through the wood.  
  
Worst thing was, it didn’t even make a satisfying sound as it got crushed.  
  
The piano was followed by a closet filled with china and silverware -which did sound exactly like it did in the movies- and Mockshow quickly animated the pool table she’d spotted in whatever the room she was in was called. Smoking room? Pool-playing room? Werewolf room?  
  
Then, she feinted forwards with her animated exercise treadmill, before having it dodge away from the beast.  
  
It snarled in anger, and dashed after it. She made it go as fast as she could while she ran in a different direction, and it smashed into the wall, followed by the angry wolf, which smashed through the wall, filling the room with clouds of dust.  
  
It was angry, and unreasonably strong, but she could use that. It was just like a video game. She’d just have to make it dash through enough walls that eventually the building collapsed on top of it.  
  
Problem was, the creature looked like it could survive that. Oh well, that was a problem for later. First, she needed to survive.  
  
She made one of her smaller minions dash for one of the windows, breaking it, and she jumped after it, landing outside of the old manor. Then, she made her pool table charge the beast while she started circling the house.  
  
Using her power on household objects was fun and everything, but this was a fight, and she needed something that worked better. Something big, sturdy and heavy, preferably lots of things.  
  
She circled the house, hoping the noise made by the beast and her pool table didn’t wake up any of the neighbour. It was still night-time, so they probably slept in, but you never knew, and she didn’t want the Protectorate to show up and arrest her for fighting werewolves or some shit like that. Maybe the breaking and entering, whatever.  
  
Behind her, she still heard the sound of the wolf-thing biting into things. Her minions there were out of her control, they’d been out of sight for too long and wouldn’t do anything anymore, but the monster didn’t know that, and was probably munching away on the piano, wondering whether it was really dead or not.  
  
Passing the pool, Olivia took a quick look in the direction of the hole in the gate, and saw a girl dressed in red slip away, signalling to her that her friends had at least escaped. While looking there, in the direction of the trees, she also thought she saw something else, two eyes, between the trees, looking at her. Creepy, and not at all real. The werewolf was inside, not between the trees.  
  
Eventually, she reached the driveway, and with it, the garage door. Just what she needed.  
  
She touched the door of the garage, using just a little bit of her power, enough to make it open itself, and saw exactly what she needed.  
  
MacFinn had been a rich guy, old money with a mansion and a freaky dungeon that he used for, well, for werewolf stuff. He also had a thing for the full moon, probably related to the whole werewolf thing. Being that rich and eccentric? If movies had told her anything it was that It could only one thing.  
  
Car collection, MacFinn had an absolutely massive car collection. Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Volkswagens, even a Jeep. Big, strong cars that would make for big, strong brutes. Minions that could stand up to the werewolf.  
  
She walked up to the jeep, and worked her power on it, charging it with telekinetic energy, transforming it into a four-legged monstrosity, capable of smashing right through puny werewolves.  
  
Just as she was about to finish that thought, the werewolf smashed through a wall, straight into the garage. It snarled and howled, and looked at her with its creepy eyes.  
  
Didn’t matter, this time, she was prepared. What had once been a large jeep meant for long excursions through shitty terrain was now best described as a steel Rhinoceros, and charging straight at the beast. It was prepared, and wanted to smash the car away like it had smashed away her piano. This time however, it was up against the massive bulk of a V8 engine. Or some other type of engine. Olivia didn’t actually know all that much about cars, she just knew that all the coolest cars had V8’s.  
  
The metal rhinoceros ignored the werewolf’s little bitch-slap, and rammed straight into it, sending it back into the hole through which it had entered the garage.  
  
For good measure, Mockshow decided to grab two more cars. A red Ferrari, which she optimized for speed, and one of those large limousines, which she used for sheer bulk.  
  
The werewolf, having thrown away the former jeep, came through its hole again, roaring at her, and while she commanded her new minions to catch its attention, she had her first minion stand up, and charged the beast from the back with it.  
  
Caught off guard, the steel horn she’d put on the front pierced into the beast’s flesh, and blood seeped out as it cried in range, picking up the Ferrari and throwing it at a wall. It started walking towards her, and Mockshow saw the wound the Jeep had created regenerate almost immediately.  
  
She ran, not to the outside, but at a wall, and the beast followed her, using one arm to keep the Jeep at bay. Once there, she stood perfectly still, and started yelling at the beast, hopefully taunting it.  
  
It seemed to work, and the beast stood still for a second before dashing forwards at great speed. Olivia waited, timed it, and just before the hairy thing could disembowel her, she had her Limousine-minion swoop past and grab her away.  
  
The beast tried to stop itself, but only half managed to, and it crashed into the wall.  
  
All around her, Olivia could hear the old house creaking and moaning, It obviously wasn’t liking the fighting.  
  
Before the creature could stand up again, the Ferrari crashed into it, and with it into the wall, creating another cloud of dust. Olivia, in the meantime, rearranged her current ride so that she could actually sit on it, and brought herself closer to a fourth car, animating that as well.  
  
Again, the beast threw her minion through the room, and she could hear a splash of water. Huh, so that wall connected to the pool, interesting.  
  
She told her mount to go outside, through the garage door, and noticed it was starting to become a even darker outside, the moon hidden behind the treeline. Again, she taunted the beast, and as it approached her, she made her mount jump upwards, on top of the building, clawing its way on the roof.  
  
Behind her, three converted and battered cars crashed into the werewolf in quick succession. It bled, and it regenerated.  
  
Well, that was going to be annoying, she thought. Maybe it had a limited pool of health it could use for regeneration? That would be useful.  
  
The beast grabbed one of her minions, and this time, it decided to actually throw it at her. Now that she was mounted however, she easily managed to dodge it, although she flinched at the sound of the metal smashing into one of the higher parts of the building, behind her.  
  
Seconds later, she felt one of the little towers on top of the mansion crash down behind her. Not her fault though, not this time.  
  
Then, the creature jumped up, after her, and she dodged it again. This time, when the two minions that remained on the ground jumped after it, both the beast and the minions fell through the roof, and from the sound of it, through the floor beneath it too. She felt a little laugh come up. This was her first actual cape fight, and it was going relatively well. She hadn’t been hurt, and her minions helped her dance around her enemy like it was nothing. The only problem was that she didn’t have any way to actually get through its massive regeneration, but hey, maybe the beast would get tired eventually?  
  
The werewolf started clawing its way upwards, out of the hole it’s bulk had created in the building, onto the roof. Mockshow, deciding that she would have absolutely none of that, made her mount turn towards one of the remaining little turret, and smashed away at the bottom half of it, until it fell over, right into the hole from which the beast was trying to crawl. The beast was buried once again, with a satisfying crunch of bones breaking.  
  
The next few minutes were silent, except for the groaning of parts of the old building, and the sound of the beast trying to claw its way up. Mockshow waited, having decided to wait until the Protectorate was almost there, and then flee, so that they could handle the whole crazy werewolf thing. Someone had to have called the cops by now, right?  
  
Then, the beast suddenly jumped upwards again, suddenly appearing from in between clouds of dust. This time, it managed to grab her mount in between its jaws, and it started shaking it. Olivia panicked, and made her mount retaliate, all the while falling off.  
  
She landed on an inclined part of the roof, and slowly tumbled down, trying to grab hold of something. Eventually, as she reached the edge, she managed to hold onto the rain gutter, and felt her power accept it. Just as she was about to make it move and set her down on the ground two floors below her, something shook the building, and she lost her grasp.  
  
Falling down, she dimly realized that this was a really shitty way to go, before hitting the lower roof beneath her, and going right through it, ending up inside the pool again.  
  
Still half-stunned, she slowly swam for the side of the pool. For some reason, the werewolf hadn’t followed her down here. Was it still attacking her mount?  
  
She noticed that half the room was now filled with one of the towers that had fallen down. She pulled herself up, and slowly walked towards it, every part of her body was sore from the fall, but she reached it, touched it, and empowered the now separated brickwork before she heard something at one of the doors into the pool.  
  
The wolf, now smaller than before, stood in the opening, and started slowly walking towards her. She responded by sending her new minion forwards, the brick and mortar slowly moving forwards, it wasn’t very effective material, but it was better than nothing.  
  
Then, she was surprised as something big and hairy jumped on her from behind, pushing her to the ground, and standing on top of her body.  
  
Hadn’t the werewolf been in front of her? Hadn’t she almost tired it out?  
  
The beast on her back growled, and she decided to stay very still as it stood there.  
  
“Tera? What happened? Why is everything destroyed?” a man’s voice called out. He sounded worried, and scared. “Did I hurt anyone? Who is that?”  
  
Olivia felt the beast on its back twist and change, turning into a human. A woman, a naked woman. And although she wasn’t a wolf anymore, the woman still overpowered her, and lifter her up, holding Olivia in a tight grip.  
  
“She and some other children broke in and caused mayhem. She fought you, after you broke out,” the naked woman said.  
  
“A parahuman then, I presume?” the man asked. Now, she could get a proper look at him. He was naked, wearing absolutely nothing, and conscious of the fact. For the rest, he seemed to be more in shape than the average rich idiot. Not that he had a sixboard and massive glutes, but he wasn’t fat. That would probably change a bit now that she’d destroyed his treadmills, but whatever.  
  
“I think yes, or a practicioner, she made things come alive with a touch,” the woman, Tera, said.  
  
The man approached her, walking past the brick construct. For just a second, she thought about making it attack him, but Tera’s hands were quite close to her throat.  
  
The man, she realized it must have been MacFinn, removed her mask with his hand.  
  
“Christ, you can’t be more than what, thirteen or something?”  
  
“Fourteen,” she replied defiantly.  
  
“And you fought it, the beast inside of me? Held it off?”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“Then you have my gratitude, for that at least. There are not many who could hold off a loup-garou. As for the rest,” he said, looking around the ruins of his mansion. “We can talk about the rest of this later, when we’re all wearing clothes. Tera, could you help our guest into something dry? And perhaps put on something yourself? I have a feeling that we may have some uninvited guests incoming.  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Harley MacFinn stepped over the rubble in his hallway, and opened what remained of his mansion’s front door. Instead of swinging inwards, the door decided to give up, and just fell over. A quick sidestep allowed him to dodge the falling hardwood, and brought Harley face to face with Revel, leader of the Chicago Protectorate. She was flanked by Campanile, a local face that had graduated in the wards somewhere in the last few years, and someone he dimly recognized as Dove-something, a recently acquired flying cape that had apparently been transferred in from a different city.  
  
“Good evening Ma’am, can I help you?” he asked.  
  
“Mister MacFinn, how nice to see you again? Someone called us, saying something about a disturbance?” she replied, gesturing at the ruined garage, and the loosened brickwork spread around the lawn.  
  
“Ah, yes, I see what you mean. Well, I’ll be happy to tell you that there are no problems here. I was just having some remodelling done,” He answered.  
  
“Remodelling?” Campanile asked, sounding sceptical.  
  
“It was some very enthusiastic remodelling.”  
  
“I see… Well, you can call us if there’s trouble, mister MacFinn, and next time, please try to do your remodelling during the daytime? Means your neighbours won’t wake up in the middle of the night.” Revel said.  
  
“Of course,” he replied. “And thank you for your watchfulness, I’ve always believed that the Chicago Protectorate is one of the city’s most noble institutions, and I look forward to speaking to you again during the next fundraiser.”  
  
“Very well mister MacFinn, I’ll see you then,” Revel replied, sceptically, before she and her superpowered posse turned around.  
  
Idly, Harley tried to close the door, before realizing that it was currently lying on the floor. Then, he thought that perhaps it was best if he did get some remodelling done.  
  
But first, he would have to do something about his broken containment circle.


	9. The Seamstress

“I’m pretty sure you’re just trying to dodge reality here Myrddin,” Campanile said with a big stupid smile on his face.  
  
That was the biggest problem with him, I just couldn’t stop thinking in size puns.  
  
“Eyes on the road Campanile, there’s a large vampire problem in these parts.”  
  
“Come on man, I know how much you’re making from all the merchandise, you can buy better than that stupid little Volkswagen,” he said, and I could barely keep my anger in check.  
  
“The Blue Beetle is my car. There are many like it, but the Blue Beetle is mine. The Blue Beetle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life.”  
  
“Oh come on man, it’s just a car.”  
  
“It’s not just a car man. The Beetle and I, we went through a lot of shit together. I’ve had it repaired like fifty times now.”  
  
“Maybe that says more about your driving skills than your car.”  
  
“Yeah, because you’re such a great driver!”  
  
“For the hundredth time, I hit that guy on purpose. He was a brute!”  
  
“You were still on your learner’s permit!”  
  
“And I already drove better than you!”  
  
As we turned another corner, the conversation died down. We were now on a busier street again, and it wouldn’t do to have everyone see how ridiculous the internal struggles of the Protectorate were.  
  
Evening patrol had, as always, been relatively silent, anticipatory. It lacked the large-scale attention from civilians that you got in afternoon patrols, and most of the supervillains and other nasties waited until later in the night to start acting. Thus, instead of rushing from crime scene to crime scene, we’d been annoying each other with remarks about driving skills and cars. Campanile had taken a perverse amount of pleasure in the fact that an unknown parahuman had destroyed my car.  
  
“So, Wanton told me you used another power? Something about binding the ghost of a dead supervillain?” he suddenly asked, changing to a more serious topic.  
  
“Long story short? She was only mostly dead. Something with a weird power interaction,” I told him, trying to keep a balance between telling him the truth and having him stop believing me.  
  
“So, something like Glaistig Uaine? Only for herself?”  
  
I thought about the question for a while. Glaistig Uaine was a powerful cape, perhaps one of the most powerful ones, that had the ability to summon the ghosts of fallen parahumans, and use their abilities for herself. She was also delusional, looked like an eight-year-old, and thought parahumans -or rather, their powers- were faeries.  
  
That was, of course, absolute nonsense. Faeries were creatures of the Nevernever, not interdimensional brain parasites, although I could forgive her for mistaking one for the other. My own fairy godmother, Leanansidhe, was just about as, if not more, dangerous than the parasite that was invading my brain.  
  
In addition to that, her ‘ghosts’ were very much not ghosts. Given what Lisa had told me, it was more likely that they were quite similar to what she was, created from a highly sophisticated record of the inner mental workings of the parahuman in question. Except instead of getting matched with the actual ghost, they were now under control of a childlike supervillain.  
  
“Sort of, yeah. She was stuck in a difficult to perceive form, and I managed to get her settled in.” I replied.  
  
“And does Heathrow know about this? Hell, have you told Revel you’ve been helping supervillains?” he asked, quietly.  
  
“Campanile, seriously, have you ever known me to ask before casting a spell?”  
  
He laughed, knowing that I had not.  
  
“So, how’d the Skitter thing go? You learn anything about those werewolf guys?”  
  
“Hexenwolves, probably. She told me they started as a normal operation, only changing into wolves once they were confronted by Watch. Looks like they’re taking parahuman activities into their own claws.”  
  
“And the girl?” he asked.  
  
“Still a little in shock, trying to rebuild her life. She seems to have taken a big turn towards our side though.”  
  
“Does that mean we can expect a creepy new ward?”  
  
“Don’t think so, she’s not entirely happy with us. For now, I’m just making sure she and Tattletale don’t get caught up with the wrong people again.”  
  
“Like the vampires.”  
  
“Like the vampires.”  
  
We walked on a little, swerving around small groups of people that were just starting in the Chicago nightlife.  
  
“They attacked people last night, a recruitment attempt on teenagers,” I said.  
  
“Skitter?” he asked.  
  
“And Rune, another girl from Brockton Bay.”  
  
“Another one of your sources, I’m guessing?”  
  
“An independent I know told me about her.”  
  
“Wonder what got them riled up. They usually prefer staying in the shadows.”  
  
“Tattletale, the ghost I told you about, thinks it’s one of the Merchants, another group from Brockton Bay. They recruited people by making them dependent on a steady supply of drugs. It seems to me like they tried to mimic that tactic.”  
  
“Great…” Campanile said. See? I wasn’t the only one making size puns. It’s just that mine were better.  
  
Our conversation was cut short when Campanile suddenly got a message in his earpiece.  
  
“Hey Myrddin, comms are saying someone called Susan is calling in, asking for you.”  
  
That was one of the problems with being a wizard, technology, and therefore smartphones, didn’t agree with you. The Protectorate had done it away as just another side-effect of my phenomenally large array of Trump abilities, and had given up on giving me new earpieces and other such things. Thus, when Susan wanted to talk to me, she’d call the PRT, which called my patrol partner, which informed me. It was a great system.  
  
The real problem was that, if Susan called, that meant something important and time-sensitive was going on. And given who her new assistant was, it was probably trouble.  
  
“What’s she saying?” I asked.  
  
He repeated my question, making sure it was properly picked up by his earpiece.  
  
“She’s saying you were supposed to help her pick up the puppies at the university,” Campanile said, a suspicious look on his face.  
  
Then, he turned off the earpiece again. “So, I’m thinking this is some sort of code…” he said.  
  
“Oh really? You think so? Did you use your massive intellect to deduce that?”  
  
“So, what’s it mean?”  
  
“It means we have to hurry, because Skitter is fighting Werewolves on the campus.”  
  
“Wait, wasn’t she like fourteen?” he asked, as he was starting to exercise his power, growing with about half a foot every second.  
  
Campanile had the ability to become big. Now mind you he was already a ridiculous eight feet tall without actively using it, so instead of just becoming large, he becomes humongous.  
  
Of course, as any student of physics that thinks himself a smartass loves to point out, that’s largely useless. The human body is designed for a specific size and weight, and simply scaling that up doesn’t work. The square-cube law meant that weight increased at a far greater rate than the size of his legs, and in addition to that, the massive weight would also mean he would sink straight through the floor if he actually became a sizeable height.  
  
So, his brain parasite had decided, he’d also need gravity manipulation, just so that he could keep being as big as he wanted to be.  
  
“So, given that your car’s still in the shop, in how big of a hurry are we?” he asked, his voice now deep and gravelly.  
  
I looked around at the street, and all the citizens out on the town for the evening, about half of them holding smartphones in their hand. For just a second, I thought about my remaining self-respect  
  
Then I remembered that everyone already thought of me as ‘that crazy wizard guy’ anyway, and that three young women, two of them supervillains, were depending on me for help in taking down the Hexenwolves.  
  
“Fine… go ahead,” I said.  
  
At that, Campanile picked me up, and held me in a bridal carry for just long enough to allow all the onlookers to take a picture, and upload them to their instabooks or whatever. Blame me for not having the internet, I’ve heard what degenerates online get up to. Grace and Cuff had explained to me in quite some detail about something called slash, and whatever they said, I’d never looked at Chevalier in that manner. Michael was the only knight for me.  
  
Then, when he was sure everyone had been able to take an embarrassing picture, Campanile flung me over his shoulder instead, and started running for the university campus.  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
In my years dealing with supernatural and parahuman troubles in Chicago, I’ve seen quite a few different variations of _shit going down._  
  
Sometimes, it was a thunderstorm that a wannabe warlock was using to gather energy in order to rip people’s hearts out of their bodies.  
  
At other times, it was pouring rain in the middle of a sunny day, accompanied by Leviathan smashing through the cities.  
  
Another big tell was screaming hordes of people running in just about every direction.  
  
Having a literal maelstrom of bugs flying through the sky however, was a new one. At least if you ignored all that stuff in the bible.  
  
As we approached closer to the cloud of bugs, Campanile set me back on the ground. Looking at the swarm, he asked me: “Are you sure she’s on our side?”  
  
I looked at the swarm of bugs again, and swallowed. I’d faced down a lot of nasties, including actual demons. I knew they were just bugs, that they were perfectly under control, and that they were nothing compared to the stuff I’d faced.  
  
Nonetheless, it still creeped me out. It’s not that I hate bugs, it’s just that there were so many of them. How was she even controlling them all?  
  
“I hope so,” I answered.  
  
We made our way forwards, onto the campus. It was largely abandoned, which probably had something to do with the cloud of bugs. After getting closer to the cloud, which I assumed was Skitter’s way of both making civilians evacuate and alerting me to her location, I suddenly spotted her running towards use, followed by a smaller cloud of bugs, her personal attack squad.  
  
Looking at her, it seemed like she’d ditched most of the armor pieces she’d been wearing in all the footage from Brockon Bay. She was just covered in thick silk, with her mask covering her face, and a tiny blue orb floating above her.  
  
The effect wasn’t as interesting as you’d expect when you heard about a girl wearing nothing but form-fitting silk. It was probably due to that was due to relative thickness of the material and her rather lacklustre build. Unlike her deceased teammate, Taylor lacked the curves and such that are usually associated with womanhood. Or maybe it was the scary mask and the mass of buzzing bees and poisonous spiders following her around and crawling over the silk.  
  
She came to a stop at a small distance, looking in the direction of the humongous Campanile with what was probably distrust. It could be rather difficult to figure out facial expressions behind face-covering masks, so it was also possible that she’d already seen the pictures on Twitter, and was jealous of our relationship.  
  
“You called for an exterminator?” I asked.  
  
“You know what the weirdest thing is? I don’t think we’ve actually heard that one before, despite what you’d expect from such a shitty joke,” Lisa replied.  
  
“I pride myself in my originality.”  
  
“So, what’s the deal?” Campanile asked.  
  
“We were tracking down some rumours when the werewolves entered my range, they went inside somewhere, and I used my swarm to keep them inside, didn’t want them to try escaping again. I’m not sure how you want to handle this, there’s quite a few of them.”  
  
“And just three of us,” I said  
  
“Hey,” Lisa exclaimed, followed by a compulsory “Listen!”  
  
“So, how many hexenwolves do we have?”  
  
“A total of eight,” Taylor replied. “And I don’t recognize any of them from my previous encounter. I think there’s even more of them somewhere else.  
  
“So what now? We wait for reinforcement? They seem to be pinned down quite well,” Campanile said.  
  
“Hold on. Someone’s coming,” Taylor suddenly said.  
  
“Small, female, sweating, wearing some sort of dress, a mask and I think it’s a wig.”  
  
“Sounds like Parian, or maybe someone I don’t know,” Lisa said.  
  
“Parian, that’s a Rogue right?” Campanile asked.  
  
“Yeah, makes big walking plushies that, apparently, can stand up to Leviathan,” I said.  
  
The rest of us also saw her as she came around a corner. Parian looked like a doll, literally. Only in this case, it was a hastily dressed doll that was wearing her wig backwards.  
  
She came to a stop before our little group, panting heavily. As a Rogue, she’d probably thought that she didn’t need to be in shape, leading to us waiting while she was trying to catch her breath, which was when I noticed the big sewing needles floating besides her, pointed at Skitter.  
  
“Are you going to start a fight?” I asked.  
  
“No,” Parian replied, sounding surprised that I asked. I looked at her over, noted that her nose wasn’t growing, and decided to trust her. I didn’t know much about doll-people, but I knew that.  
  
“But she is,” she continued, pointing at Skitter with an accusing finger.  
  
Campanile turned, and looked at Skitter again, being all intimidating and large.  
  
“Bullshit, I haven’t attacked anyone except for the werewolves,” Taylor defended herself  
  
“Hexenwolf,” Lisa chimed in.  
  
“Werewolves, hexenwolves, whatever. In either case, they’re supervillains, murderers.”  
  
“What? No, where did you get that idea?”  
  
“I presume from all the murdering?” Lisa said.  
  
“Look, whatever you think happened last night, they were helping me out, not murdering innocent people,” Parian replied. As timid as she was, she was almost yelling now.  
  
“Wait, last night?” Campanile asked.  
  
“There was some strange woman harassing me, and they chased her off, she escaped, but it got rather bloody. Anyway, they explained their, well, their problem to me afterwards, and I made them those clothes, and…”  
  
“Wait, clothes?” I asked.  
  
Parian got flustered, and it was actually kind of cute.  
  
“Well, they were, you know… not really wearing anything. And…”  
  
“And the Hexenwolves we’re looking for can transform with their clothes on,” Lisa said.  
  
“Meaning these aren’t Hexenwolves, but werewolves…” I said. “Skitter, I think you can disperse your swarm, we’ve got the wrong gang of shapeshifting canines.”  
  
“And once again, nakedness saved the day,” Campanile added in. “Just like in high-school!”  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
About half an hour later, I was sitting in Parian’s workshop, a lovely little building filled with several different boxes of yet to be unboxed fabrics, as well as several giant, animated plushies, a lanky student wearing a plush wolf mask and a strange set of clothes that, apparently, stayed on when shapeshifting, and a Parian that had taken the time to get correctly dressed. Parian was making coffee, while I was having a talk with one of the werewolves, who had apparently just decided to pretend to be parahumans.  
  
“Well, you don’t have to, but I suggest you register yourselves as an independent team anyway. It makes communication easier, and gives us some leeway we can use to give you some leeway. The PRT really likes having up to date information on gang activity as well. We’d be able to give you a warning if there was something happening, like if the vampires were going on a forcible recruiting spree.”  
  
“I’ll talk about it with the others, but I can’t be sure what we’ll do,” Billy, if that was even his real name, replied. I had a lot of questions, mostly about where exactly they’d learned to turn themselves into wolves, and if they were sure it didn’t have anything to do with the other group of Lupine Theriomorphs in town, but they’d have to wait for later. Billy was tired, and he wanted to get back to his friends, given that the group had been completely terrified at the prospect of an oncoming bug apocalypse less than an hour ago.  
  
“Can I go now?” He asked.  
  
“Sure, I think we’re done here,” I replied.  
  
“Your coffee?” Parian asked, handing me a cup of black nectar. As she handed it to me, I felt a small spark of energy pass between our hands. Nothing big, but energy nonetheless.  
  
“Mister Myrddin, if you have a minute, I had a few questions as well,” Parian said.  
  
“Sure, go ahead.” I replied while Billy was busy leaving the room in a hurry. He was a good kid, he just had a newfound appreciation for arachnophobia.  
  
When Billy had left the room, Parian changed demeanour and removed her mask, showing a rather lovely face. Dark skin, with eyes you could absolutely drown in and full, gorgeous lips. In contrast to her blonde, European-styled outfit, she was obviously Middle-Eastern.  
  
Thoughts started racing through my head about why she was taking off her mask. Was she a fan, hopelessly in love with me? Did she have some sort of medusa-gaze, in addition to her other powers? Was she just crazy in general?  
  
“Are you really the Merlin?” she asked.  
  
I breathed a sigh of relief, and let out a little laugh.  
  
“No, I’m not nearly old and crotchety enough for that. It’s just that the Image department insisted on the name.”  
  
“But you are council, I assume?” she asked.  
  
“I am, although I have to ask, how do you know all this?” I replied.  
  
“It’s… a long story,” she said, taking a drink from her cup of tea.  
  
I looked around the little workshop again, this time armed with some more knowledge than I had been before. It was new, obviously acquired after she’d come to Chicago from Brockton, but I could already see some small touches that told me it wasn’t just a place where she could sew clothes with her parahuman ability. For one thing, there weren’t any mirrors in the room, even though she made clothes here. That probably had something to do with the fact that a lot of creatures from the Nevernever could use mirrors as entrances. In addition to that, there were quite a few candles standing around, meaning she could provide light when her magic made the light-bulb malfunction. Given by the fact that I’d seen a smartphone, it seemed like she wasn’t all that powerful on the magical side her things,, given that her ambient energy hadn’t fried it yet. Traditional knowledge held that she was just a low-level practitioner, far removed from the powerhouses of the council.  
  
Of course, traditional knowledge ignored the massive cloth minions she could create, as well as the telekinetic needles. Combine that with the more versatile abilities that even a little bit of magical knowledge gave her, and she was a force to be reckoned with.  
  
“Back in Brockton, I was part of a small circle. Students with a minor talent and some interest in the supernatural. We shared information, helped protect each other’s rooms, studying the natural world as well as the supernatural one, stuff like that. Unlike in the movies however, we were a mixed group, men and women,” she said, with a pained look on her face.  
  
Given the general nature of parahuman abilities, I was almost entirely sure that I knew where this was going.  
  
“You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to,” I replied. Think of it what you want, but I’m a bit old-fashioned and chivalric. I don’t like seeing women get hurt, even if it is because they reminisce about painful memories.  
  
“No, it’s… it’s alright. Anyway, eventually, one of them, one of the guys, he decided to use his abilities and knowledge to cheat on tests. One of the others disagreed, and they had a big fight about it. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, because the next day they were thick as brothers.  
  
“Then, a week or two later, he started dating one of the girls in the group. Nothing suspicious, except that the girl was already in a steady relationship.  
  
“I was really busy with my studies, had an unwanted suitor that wouldn’t leave me alone. I wasn’t really paying a lot of attention to the rest, but even I thought it strange when they were suddenly in a polyamorous relationship. Not that I think there’s anything wrong with that, but it was a bit weird.  
  
“One of the other guys in the circle did have a problem with it, and he told them. The next day, they were friends again.  
  
“It’s… a few days later, he’d decided he wanted more, and he came for me as well. He tried to get into my mind, make me like him somehow. It wasn’t as successful as it was with the others. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I was better at defending my mind, or because I wasn’t into boys anyway. Or maybe he was a little racist deep down, and his heart wasn’t in it. Anyway, he wasn’t able to correctly get in.”  
  
“This warlock, is he still around?”  
  
“No. When he noticed he’d failed, he overpowered me and locked me in the basement, waiting to recover his energy so he could try again. Before his second try however, someone else paid him a visit. A Warden, slicing through the defences we’d prepared with the circle like they were nothing. The guy, he came downstairs, taking me hostage, hoping to escape the Warden that way, but the universe had different ideas.”  
  
“You triggered,” I filled in.  
  
“I triggered, and I stabbed him in the stomach with a needle that had been lying around.  
  
“After that, the Warden arrested him, and from what I know about Wardens, he was executed. The rest though, the other members of my little circle, they were never the same.  
  
"For a few days, I went through life in a daze, not wanting to believe what had happened. That was when the Warden found me again. He told me some things about powers, and helped me cast a rather difficult spell.”  
  
“The binding.”  
  
“If that’s what it’s called. All I know is that it means I won’t end up like a hormonal crime-fighter with massive issues.”  
  
“That’s one of the things it does, yeah. But, that doesn’t explain why you told me all of this.”  
  
“It’s… I wanted to know if he’s alright. He showed up at the Leviathan fight, and I lost track of him in the chaos of battle. I owe him a lot.”  
  
“And you want me to send him a message, asking if he’s okay.”  
  
“If possible, yes.”  
  
“What’s his name?” I asked her.  
  
“Morgan,” she answered.  
  
Warden Morgan was most definitely someone I was familiar with. A hard, remorseless man, who absolutely hated black magic of all kinds. As a Warden, his job had been to find warlocks, those who had broken the laws of magic, and kill them.  
  
He had also been the man who had come after me when I had killed my former master with unnatural fire. The man who had been convinced that I was a Warlock, a supernatural murderer that would only sink deeper into depravity.  
  
The worst thing was, I could kind of understand it. After all, he hadn’t known that the unnatural fire that had scorched Justin DuMorne’s body to the bones had been parahuman in nature, instead of magical. No, the thing I really blamed him for was his inability to apologize for his actions.  
  
Apparently, he’d been influenced by the chain of events as well, at least enough to help a newly triggered Parian with her brain parasite instead of accusing her of being a warlock.  
  
“You know him?” she asked.  
  
“We’ve met,” I replied.  
  
“So, these Werewolves, would you happen to know where they learned? It’s probably nothing, but I find it a bit suspicious that they showed up at the same time the Hexenwolves did.”  
  
“Hexenwolves?” she asked, and I explained in more detail about the group of shapeshifters that had led Taylor here.  
  
In return, she told me the few things the werewolves, or Alphas as they called themselves, had told her. They were learning from a woman whose identity they weren’t willing to supply, and had been for a few months now, a timetable that was definitely longer than I’d been chasing the Hexenwolves.  
  
Which gave me a working theory, one that I’d have to check with Tattletale, but which seemed very plausible indeed.  
  
It hadn’t been a coincidence that there were two groups of wolves running around, it was entirely on purpose. The Hexenwolves, whoever they were, had caught wind of the rumours about werewolves on the campus, and had decided to use them as a scapegoat, planning for exactly what had happened earlier today, minus Parian’s timely intervention. It was amazing how many problems could be solved by talking things out.  
  
They’d get their belts, take down a few choice parahuman criminals they’d been chasing for a while, aim the Protectorate in the direction of the Alphas, and pretend nothing had happened. Justice was served, supervillains would be dead, and the city would be just a little cleaner.  
  
The problem, of course, was that Taylor had caught them in the act.  
  
In addition to that, Taylor had made a rather visible appearance at the university, the place where, rumour had it, the werewolves were located.  
  
And those werewolves had not been killed, meaning that Taylor knew that the Hexenwolves were a separate group.  
  
Which meant that they would be coming after her.  
  
That meant that my decision to keep my talks with her off the records had turned out to be rather useful. While most of the Protectorate members knew I’d been having talks with her, it wasn’t the kind of thing that showed up in the paperwork. I was pretty sure the Hexenwolves were both pretty high up in whatever law enforcement agency they were part of, and that they didn’t necessarily do everything by the book. That meant they had access to all of the Protectorate’s paperwork, which would give them a false sense of security.  
  
All I would have to do, was wait for the Hexenwolves to hunt down the teenage girl that had figured out their identity.


	10. A War against Wards

“Won’t you just listen to me? I’m not a villain anymore!” I yelled, but it wasn’t like they were even listening to me at this point.  
  
Tecton’s piledriver gauntlet launched down, shaking the ground, but I saw it coming through my bugs, and jumped just before he hit.  
  
Then, in mid-air, I turned around in order to block a strike from Grace, who had used her enhanced agility to run straight through Tecton’s shaker attack.  
  
It worked, and I stopped her from actually hitting me, but I still felt the impact in my arm. Damn Strikers.  
  
I looked around, seeing the way they’d surrounded me. Tecton, keeping me off my feet. Grace and Cuff, circling me in melee range, and Wanton and Annex were lurking somewhere, invisibly.  
  
Tecton, finally deciding to respond to my pleas, took a heroic stance he’d probably practiced in front of a mirror.  
  
“Foul criminal! Surrender now or we will be forced to take you down!”  
  
I thought the pose looked silly, but the onlookers, about half of them with their smartphones out, absolutely loved it.  
  
“Never!” I yelled back at the self-righteous Ward, and I called forth a group of flies and cockroaches from the massive swarm I’d gathered above us.  
  
They reached me just in time, right before Grace could deliver another punch, and they swarmed her, covering almost her entire body.  
  
Almost immediately, she fell to the floor and started screaming in agony.  
  
Cuff, who had been hesitant about joining the fight, took that as her cue. “Noooooo!” she yelled like the overdramatic teenager she was, before she towards me, getting ready to knock me around like it was nothing with those metal gauntlets she was wearing.  
  
I took the bugs that were swarming Grace, covered myself in them, and stepped to the side, my movements invisible in the small cloud of bugs.  
  
Cuff missed me, and accidentally swallowed a few flies while she was roaring in rage. In the meantime, I brought more bugs down, and created a few swarm-clones around me.  
  
Then, becoming more confident, Wanton started throwing around more pieces of rubble, destroying my swarm clones with them.  
  
Sure, they could reform, but they would know that I wasn’t located in those clouds of bugs.  
  
“Come out and fight, you coward!” Tecton yelled, walking forwards all heroically. He was laying it on a little thick. Perhaps he wasn’t as good in acting as he thought he was.  
  
I pretend to humour him, and sent one of the swarm-clones forwards, slowly walking for Tecton. In the meantime, I made my way to the fringes of the battlefield, and started focussing on the bugs on the outer reaches of my range.  
  
It had been pretty easy to find Revel, Myrddin, Shuffle, Snaptrap and Tattletale. They were hiding in the tunnels that were spread throughout the city, long forgotten and abandoned. I’d noticed them before, when large concentrations of bugs came into range beneath the earth, and apparently Tecton was quite familiar with their layout, as he had pointed out the hiding spot to the Protectorate members before the battle began.  
  
Outside of that however, I couldn’t sense anyone, except for the onlookers standing around, gawking with their phones out. I desperately hoped that the Hexenwolves would hurry, because it was actually rather difficult to have an extended pretend-fight like this. I just couldn’t find any excuses not to immediately swarm Tecton, Grace and Cuff with a horde of bees, and I was quite sure that Wanton could easily counter me if he wanted to. His Breaker state was completely immune to my insects, and he could move around inside of it. I wasn’t entirely sure about the specifics though, maybe he could only move within a specific range of his point of origin, or maybe he could only stay transformed for a number of seconds that was a multiple of seven but not of three. Powers could be weird like that, and someone not doing something obvious wasn’t always a sign of them being stupid.  
  
Then again, Wanton did give off the impression that he was kind of stupid. Maybe that was because he sounded like he was ordering something at Starbucks whenever he transformed, or because he was such a big Myrddin fan.  
  
Then again, Harry was an actual wizard rather than a crazy person, and he actually used pseudo-Latin phrases to cast spells, so maybe there was something to it, and yelling out Italian-sounding words actually helped improve Wanton’s power.  
  
Getting an idea for a plan to buy us more time, I gathered a large part of my swarm, and instead of creating a swarm-clone, roughly the size and shape of my own body, I created a larger mass, with four legs and a tusk-like teeth things made out of bees where it’s face should be.  
  
Most of them were confused, but Grace seemed to have figured out what I was trying to do. She took a fighting stance, ran forwards, dodged past the bee-tusks, and smashed a fist into the head, at which moment I scattered the bugs making up the head, making it seem like she’d blown apart some sort of construct.  
  
Given all the cameras around here, it seemed like a good idea to make people get the wrong idea about my powers. If a supervillain wanted to fight me and though I couldn’t control bugs outside of pre-made construct, then I’d be able to get one up over them.  
  
As my first bug construct fell apart, I created several more, swarming the Wards with them. They followed Grace’s lead, and started fighting them, dodging my attacks and striking at the swarms with fists, after which I made them fall apart. It went on like that for a few minutes, until I felt Tattletale bump into one of my cockroaches, squishing it. It was the sign we’d prepared beforehand, and it meant I’d have to make my retreat.  
  
I started running in their general direction, and made the cloud of bugs follow me, leaving the assembled Wards behind. Not half a minute later, I’d found the Hexenwolves, running my way in wolf form. Trying to catalogue the differences, it seemed that these were slightly larger and more bulky than the werewolves had been, and they weren’t wearing anything, probably because their clothes joined them in their transformation.  
  
I signalled the Protectorate members, hidden in a tunnel just below the ground, in Undertown, using fireflies to give them a path roughly parallel to my own, only a dozen feet below me.  
  
In the distance, I felt one of the Hexenwolves stand still, sniffing the air around him, before taking the lead, bringing the pair straight towards me.  
  
Which was a problem, since there had been four of them the last time I’d checked.  
  
I let my back-up know as much by writing out a big two in bugs, and took my position.  
  
I leaned against the wall of a building, holding my arm to me, like I remembered doing when it had been broken in the Leviathan fight. If the Hexenwolves thought I was wounded, and easy pickings, then that was all the better.  
  
Then, I saw them come around the corner, saw them with my own eyes.  
  
They were big, bigger than the Werewolves had been, and they looked savage. I’d say they were animalistic, but they reminded me more of Rachel’s dogs, when they were transformed, than of any actual animal. Drool dripped from their gaping maws as they spotted me, obviously happy with the easy target. I just hoped that Lisa and Harry were right, and that they weren’t expecting this to be a set-up.  
  
So if they didn’t know anything weird was up, why were there only two of them here? Where had the other two gone?  
  
The two of them stalked forwards, coming closer to me, and I didn’t exactly need to pretend to be afraid. It was primal, the fear of being stalked by predators.  
  
I waited until they were even closer, until I judged that they were within the range Shuffle had given me. Then, I gave them my sign.  
  
It is one thing to hear someone explain his powers, it’s another to see it happen.  
  
Shuffle was a teleporter, but strangely enough, he wasn’t a mover. He had what is called a Manton limit on his powers, something that stopped him from using it on living beings, especially humans, and apparently Hexenwolves.  
  
What he did teleport, was the landscape itself. Or in this case, the street the wolves were standing on, starting from the point right before my feet, which was also right in front of Shuffle, a few dozen feet below me.  
  
The wolves, now standing on air like a Loony Tunes character, crashed down, landing roughly level with the Protectorate members.  
  
 _“Forzare”_ I heard Harry yell out, but the spell wasn’t accompanied by a blast of force flying towards the wolves. Instead, Revel flew out towards the wolves, her lantern charged with magical energies.  
  
She soared above the gap in the landscape, and launched an orb of pure energy towards the wolves at incredible speed.  
  
Not wanting to be outdone, I gathered my swarm, and got ready to join in on the fight.  
  
The Hexenwolves, supernaturally agile, managed to dodge Revels opening salvo. They couldn’t, however, dodge the follow-up.  
  
One of them was hit by an overly large grenade, thrown forwards with the help of a miniature black hole by Snaptrap. “Got him!” he yelled enthusiastically. The other got hit by a blast of wind from Myrddin. From the lack of incantation, as well as the glowing sigil in the air front of him, it seemed like he’d been using his parahuman ability instead of his magic.  
  
The grenade exploded in a thin white mist I recognized. Containment foam. It started to expand, taking in the air and greatly increasing in size, completely coating the front half of the wolf. “You take the other one,” Snaptrap yelled out, cocky, happy that he had beaten one of the creatures.  
  
The other enemy, the one that had been thrown by Myrddin, crashed through an empty storefront, landing in a cloud of biting insects. Mosquitos and bees, joined by stinging ants on the ground. The wolf howled out in pain, and started to try and run, but Revel had expected that to happen, and a second orb of force crashed into it, dealing tremendous damage. I could almost hear the cracking of bones from where I was standing.  
  
Revel was one scary lady.  
  
Myrddin joined her, _“Fuego”_ , followed by a massive blast of flames appearing from the tip of his staff. Then, he created another sigil in the air, and the half-fried wolf disappeared from my senses, temporarily banished after having been broken, bruised, boiled and bitten. It’d also been stung, but that didn’t quite fit the sentence.  
  
Then, just as I’d thought we, or rather the Protectorate, had achieved victory and the plan had worked, I felt the second wolf dashing towards me at a tremendous pace. Below me, in the now exposed Undercity, I heard Snaptrap yell something, and my bugs felt a strange pull that signified another use of his ability, and another grenade.  
  
I looked at the wolf, and saw that it had escaped the layer of foam it had been coated in, probably by turning him or herself into a much smaller human, turning back after getting loose.  
  
The wolf jumped, effortlessly dodging the second grenade Snaptrap had flung, flying straight at me. I jumped back, covering my retreat with a swarmclone and sending the rest of my bugs at the wolf. Then, before it could clear the pit, a chunk of stone appeared between me and the beast, roughly wall-like. Probably a last-ditch measure by Shuffle.  
  
Sadly, it wasn’t as effective as it could have been, and after the wolf crashed into it, it managed to climb on top of it, its deadly eyes aimed straight at me while I was running away from it.  
  
My bugs were making it bleed, but that didn’t really matter if it managed to eviscerate me.  
  
I ran, as fast as I’d ever run before, but when the beast jumped down and started running after me, it quickly became clear that it was very much faster than I was.  
  
Behind it, I heard Harry yelling something, and something crashed into the wall that Shuffle had created to try and shield me. It didn’t matter, because the wolf pounced, and I wasn’t able to dodge it, even though I knew perfectly well that it was coming.  
  
It crashed into my back, and threw me to the ground, where I landed on my back after rolling over a couple of times.  
  
The beast’s razor-sharp claws went out, and it slashed at my belly, attempting to eviscerate me.  
  
I was very very happy that I had been wearing my armour plates on top of the silk, and it seemed that the combination of silk and plating stopped the beast from cutting straight into my belly.  
  
Before it could get a proper grip and start tearing through the silk, one of Revel’s orbs slammed into it, throwing it off of me.  
  
Thinking quickly, I let go of my bugs, making them scatter and cover the area on my stomach the beast had attacked. Hopefully, the beast, man or woman, would believe me dead in its haste to flee from an absolutely livid Revel.  
  
Another orb flew over me, and I followed it by tracing the spontaneously dying bugs. The wolf dodged, but Revel wasn't just your average cape. She was team leader in one of the largest cities in the country, which meant she was an incredibly capable combatant. Her orb changed trajectory in mid-air, and tracked the running beast.  
  
Once the wolf was out of sight, I tried sitting up, wincing at the bruises the wolf had inflicted upon me, I was going to be black and blue tomorrow. I bit through the pain, and tried standing when I was surprised by Revel’s hand on my shoulder.  
  
“Are you alright?” she asked, terse and to the point.  
  
“Some bruises, but he didn’t get through my costume,” I replied.  
  
She nodded in confirmation of my reply, and turned around, looking in the direction of her assembled team members.  
  
“Shuffle, go get the van. We need to get Skitter here to the clinic at HQ. She might have some internal bleeding. Myrddin, my last strike drew blood. Gather it, and prepare one of your tracking abilities. And Snaptrap…” she looked in his direction, and I saw that he was almost cowering beneath her gaze.  
  
“Yes ma’am,” he replied.  
  
“Let it be clear that this was the last time I’ll ever trust you in the field. I know you have a reputation for being both capable and independent, and I made the mistake of trusting in that reputation. Instead of living up to it, you lied to us which led to a tactical mistake and a teenager that almost died,” Revel said, floating in front of him, making herself taller than him so that he would have to look up to her.  
  
Instead of replying, Snaptrap just stood there, unable to figure out how to reply.  
  
“I’d double your patrols, but you’d love that, wouldn’t you? A chance to get even more attention from the media. No, instead, I’ll you a warning. You either fail, embarrass the team or get someone hurt one more time, and I’ll trade you to the containment zone at Madison. Nicely away from all the fame you love so very much.”  
  
He looked angry, about to yell something, until he thought better of it and just apologized instead.  
  
“Yes ma’am, I’m sorry ma’am, it won’t happen again.”  
  
“It better not,” Revel replied.  
  
In the meantime, Tattletale came fluttering over to me, taking a look at the torn armour segments around my waist.  
  
“Looks like your armouring worked, that could have been a lot nastier,” she said.  
  
“Yeah, a bit bruised, but I’ve had worse.”  
  
“You sure there were only two of them here?” Lisa asked, she looked sceptical about the bruises I wasn’t sure how I’d noticed it, she just kind of gave off that impression through her floating.  
  
“Yeah, just those two, nothing else. It’s weird,” I replied.  
  
“Not really, now that I think about it. Remember, they wanted to aim the Protectorate at the Alphas, and make them think they were responsible. But the problem was that you knew they were separate groups.”  
  
“But… it wasn’t just me.”  
  
“No, Parian was there too. So if they wanted to destroy all the witnesses.”  
  
“Then they’re going for Parian.”  
  
“You’re sure of this?” Revel asked, joining in the conversation.  
  
“It’s either that, or there’s internal strife in their group, and I don’t think we can bank on that,” Tattle tale said.  
  
“Very well. I’ll send a few squads to the campus. Myrddin, do you have enough material?”  
  
I looked at Harry, who was using a small vial to gather blood from the floor.  
  
“I think so yeah, I should be able to track our perp anywhere in the city, unless the whole blood thing doesn’t hold up with the transformation.”  
  
“Wait, you can track people through blood?” I asked him.  
  
“Blood, hair, stuff like that. I establish a connection between the part and the whole, and use that as a means to target my spellwork, including tracking,” he replied.  
  
“Wait… you can track people like that, and you didn’t tell me?”  
  
“I have to agree. That wasn’t a good move,” Revel said. “Skitter, do you have any mosquitos left from your first encounter with them?” she asked me.  
  
“No, it’s been a few days, and even if it’s not digested yet, I didn’t bring those bugs,” I replied.  
  
“Too bad, but keep it in mind for the next encounter.”  
  
I saw several vans arrive, as well as the Wards. Myrddin, done gathering materials for his tracking spell, and was showing a larger vehicle with a foamsprayer on top the location of the banished Hexenwolf.  
  
“I gotta say, those massive bug-monsters were really fucking cool!” Annex said. I hadn’t exactly noticed him in the fight, mostly due to the nature of his powers. I couldn’t affect him when he was in his breaker state, but he couldn’t do much against my bugs either.  
  
“Hey, don’t fucking swear,” Grace said, “Or do you want us to go through another fucking PR course?”  
  
“And force us to look at an attractive young woman for an hour straight? Oh no, what a horror!” Wanton joked back at her.  
  
“Cut it out or I’ll ask Heathrow for a fat granny next time,” Tecton said.  
  
“What, can’t we get a burly hot guy instead?” Grace said.  
  
“What, you want a dude with muscles **_and_** a degree in communications studies? Good luck with that,” Tattletale joined in.  
  
I opened my mouth, trying to say something about finding a golden, Brian-shaped mean between twink and muscle-freak, but stopped after feeling one of my bruises start hurting when I breathed in. In the background, behind me, I felt a fly on Revel’s head move. She was looking in my direction.  
  
Shuffle arrived in a smaller van, opening up the back, showing a seating area on both sides, as well as a small medical kit.  
  
“Grace, Cuff, with me,” Revel said, commanding the two girls. Then, she put a hand on my back, gently pushing me into the van, and closing the door once Grace, Cuff and Tattletale had followed. Then, she clicked a button on her earpiece for a second.  
  
“Shuffle, take us back to base. Everyone else, we’ll be taking a short break in order to let the suspect return to his allies. Then, we take them down.”  
  
When she was done she turned to me, and pointed to the stretcher located on a table just behind the driver’s compartment.  
  
“I presume you can’t actually take off part of your costume, and I don’t think cutting the obstructing material away would actually work, given how strong it is.”  
  
“It’s spider silk,” Tattletale supplied. “And I think one of her ribs might be cracked.”  
  
After hearing the two of them, I understood why she’d asked for Grace and Cuff specifically. They were both girls, and while I thought Tattletale and Revel were overreacting, I appreciated the idea behind the gesture.  
  
“Skitter, you don’t feel pain as much as other people do, so it’s probably worse than you think,” Tattletale said.  
  
Begrudgingly, I obliged them, and tried to remove my costume, except for the mask. Taking off the armour segments, I noticed I had some problems getting to the ones behind me, my arms sore from being thrown to the ground.  
  
“What happened?” Cuff asked. “Did we hurt you by accident?”  
  
“One of the wolves got her,” Revel replied. “Snaptrap fucked up.”  
  
I saw a sly smile appear in Grace’s face, happy that she’d caught her boss cursing.  
  
Noticing my difficulties, Cuff started helping undo the clasps and straps that held the armour segments in place. Once they were all removed, I sat down on the little medical bed, and let Revel help me out of the tight-fitting silk.  
  
“Yeah, pretty sure you’ve got a cracked rib, no dangerous internal bruising though,” Tattletale said.  
  
“You are sure of this?” Revel asked her.  
  
“Pretty sure yeah, my power isn’t usually wrong with stuff like this unless I get faulty information.”  
  
The rest of the journey was relatively boring. Revel was fussing around with a few ice packs, and Cuff and Grace had started arguing about a local television series. I wondered about it, trying to fit together the stern but motherish figure giving me first aid together with the shouting, no-nonsense battlefield commander that mercilessly crushed werewolves with her ability and tore down her subordinates with nothing but her voice.  
  
Was it because of my age? Did she feel responsible for me getting hurt? Was the no-nonsense attitude a natural defence against Myrddin’s general zaniness?  
  
Eventually, Cuff gathered up her courage, and asked Tattletale a question.  
  
“So, are you really a ghost?” she asked.  
  
“That really depends upon your definitions. I’m not a traditional ghost, seeing as I still have a soul and everything, but ghost is probably the closest thing to describe what I am,” Lisa replied.  
  
“Yeah, right, souls. Are you sure you’re not just an advanced A.I. or something that Myrddin put inside of that old drone?”  
  
“I don’t think so. I mean, it’s possible that Myrddin programmed me into thinking I was a ghost, but I could say the same thing about you. I mean, are you sure you aren’t secretly a construct he created? That you only think you’re real?”  
  
“What? That’s ridiculous, of course I’m real. I have a family, a school life, and hell, I have a body!”  
  
“Well, I also had a family, as well as a G.E.D. Do you really think there’s no way for Myrddin to have created your family as well? I mean, come on, metal manipulation? Does that sound like a real power to you, or is it something that Myrddin gave to a metal golem in order to allow it to walk around?”  
  
“I’m not a Golem!” Cuff yelled, while Grace started giggling. I was about to join her, but the movement was hurting, and I almost immediately stopped.  
  
“Prove it!” Tattletale said.  
  
“Both of you stop before someone starts cutting herself,” Revel said sternly, trying to keep it together by pressing ice packs against my ribs.  
  
“Still not a Golem…” Cuff mumbled, holding her arms over each other while trying to get the last word in. Lisa just replied by making little whistley noises, fluttering around before deciding to give Revel unnecessary feedback on her first aid skills.  
  
After a few minutes, I felt the van enter into the belly of the beast, by which I mean a garage next to what could only have been the local Protectorate HQ. Unlike Brockton Bay, where the Protectorate and the PRT operated out of different buildings, the PRT HQ and the Protectorate base were located in the same building in Chicago. Instead, they had smaller outposts spread throughout the city, containing a fast-response squad of PRT troops as well as, according to the internet, luxurious waiting rooms where the local Parahumans took decadent breaks from their patrols, lounging on expensive massage chairs and drinking only the finest wine.  
  
Then again, that same source also claimed that Myrddin was dating the head of the local vampire gang, and that Campanile was Legend’s side-piece.  
  
“Grace, Cuff, Tattletale, I need you three to get to the infirmary, tell them they need to get the x-ray machine ready,” Revel said as the Shuffle parked the van.  
  
I thought Tattletale was about to say something, but she didn’t, and left the van with the two Wards.  
  
“So, about that conversation you had with Myrddin,” she said.  
  
“You mean like how he’s a wizard, and Tattletale’s a ghost now?” I replied.  
  
“You believe his claims? But no, that wasn’t what I meant.”  
  
“You mean the other thing… my history.”  
  
“Your being a supervillain yes, or at least a former supervillain,” she said.  
  
I looked down at the floor, trying to evade her gaze.  
  
“I’d never intended to go there, It’s just… with everything that happened,” I replied.  
  
“I’ve read some of the reports from Armsmaster, especially the parts between the lines. I don’t agree with your actions, but I can understand them, and I trust that they weren’t out of malice.  
  
“Outside of that, you present a problem for me. Going by the books, I should make you a probationary Ward. It would make sure you stayed on the right path, stop any supervillains from attempting to recruit you, and ensure you have a support system.  
  
“Now, before you say anything, let me finish. Harry told me about your problems with the Wards, and I can respect that. However, I am going to put down some ground rules.  
  
“First of all, you will report any incidents with supervillains to the PRT. Second, any proactive capering goes through me for approval. And last but most certainly not least, if you want to stay out of high-school, you’re going to get your GED. Break those rules, and I’m recruiting you whether you like it or not. Understood?”  
  
I looked at her; she had a stern expression on her face that sort of reminded me of my mother’s when she caught me with my hand in the cookie jar. Eventually, I decided to mimic what I’d seen someone else done, less than an hour before.  
  
“Yes ma’am.”  
  
Our conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Cuff, who was running through the garage to our van, slamming the door open.  
  
“Boss, we’ve got a problem,” she said.  
  
“What is it?” Revel asked her, going back to her business face.  
  
“There’s a panicky naked lady with crazy eyes in the lobby, and she’s asking for Myrddin.”


	11. Say Hello to Marcone

Being both a wizard and a cape at the same time, I lead an exciting life. Not a week goes by without some sort of trouble finding its way to me. Sometimes, it was just a bunch of drug-dealing capes getting high on their own supply of third-eye inducing superdrugs, and sometimes it was trolls under bridges complaining that automated toll booths were stealing their income.

Through all that, I’d started to figure out the pattern behind it. On average, the more attractive the woman involved, the bigger the trouble. On the lower end of the scale, you have Revel, who usually accompanies a long-winded tirade about how I should call demons Case 53’s, even though they were obviously different things. Now don’t take this the wrong way, she’s a nice lady, but she’s got this whole stern commander thing going on that just doesn’t do it for me.

On the other end of the scale, you have my fairy godmother, Leanansidhe. Unlike what the Disney movies tell you, not all fairy godmothers are fat shapeless blobs. Mine was a killer lady with long scarlet-copper hair, who was exactly as terrifying as she was mind-blowingly gorgeous.

Now, this theory of mine isn’t really scientific or anything like that. In fact, it’s probably just confirmation bias. Then again, Ziz is a naked lady, and definitely the most dangerous of the endbringers.

I wasn’t entirely sure where on that spectrum the woman standing in the lobby fell, but the fact that she was naked probably meant shit was going to go down, worse than it already was.

She was looking around the lobby, her deep amber eyes flitting between the PRT squad, the on looking tourists, and the heroes. Eventually, her eyes noticed me, and she walked towards me.

Some of the troopers reacted; they were agitated, on edge, and probably slightly aroused and or jealous.

I held up my hand, signalling that they shouldn’t attack. Then, I took stock of our visitor.

First, I used one of the small side-effects of my parahuman abilities. My powers allowed me to create interdimensional portals to pocket dimension, in a way that was at least slightly similar to the way the ‘Para,’ as Lisa called them, connected to their hosts. This allowed me to, when I took a good look at someone, figure out something about their power. It wasn’t all that useful. Looking at Revel that way allowed me to see that her power had something to do with redirection, while Campanile had size and weight, and Skitter had control.

Where it was really useful, however, was in figuring out whether or not someone had powers. The strange naked woman did not. At least not of the parahuman kind.

Next, I used my sight, a magical ability that allowed people like me to look at the world with the metaphorical third eye.

Looking at the woman, I still saw her standing there. Her shaggy, dark brown hair had gotten longer, and wilder, and she walked even more gracefully than before. Her eyes were wild, animalistic, but not in the way the Hexenwolves had been. She was both dangerous , graceful, and lethal. Like a predator. In addition to that, she was most definitely not human which could explain her nudity.

I shut off my sight before I could see more. It was an incredibly useful ability, but much like a soulgaze, the stuff you saw through the sight stayed with you. Given a crowded place like this, with a lot of parahumans around, that meant seeing a lot of interdimensional creatures hanging around.

“I heard you were looking for me?” I said.

“I used the telephone, but they did not help when I asked to speak to you wizard,” she replied.

“Yeah, they get about fifty calls a day from women asking to speak to me. Turns out I’m a lot more attractive when you’ve never met me in person.”

“You misunderstand, I did not ask out of lust, I require assistance. I was talking to lady Sabah when she was been taken by two pretenders,” The woman replied.

My mind started working on the sentence, trying to figure out exactly what she was saying. There was someone called Sabah that she had been talking to, when two things she calls pretenders took her. Now, given that she probably wasn’t human, it seemed like the pretenders were people pretending to be what she actually was. Now all I had to do was add the timing of the whole thing, sprinkle it with a little ‘there were two of them’, finish it off with a little pot-boiled Tattletale telling me the Hexenwolves were going after Parian, and what you had was a nice healthy figuring out a Rogue’s secret identity by accident.

The real question was, why had this woman been talking to Parian, and what was her relationship with the Alphas.

“We’re working on it,” I told her. It was sort of true. I’d been preparing a tracking spell that would allow us to find the Hexenwolf that had attacked Taylor, which would hopefully lead us to the rest of them.

Revel appeared beside me, having arrived from whatever she had been doing. Like telling Taylor not to rob any banks or something like that.

“You said this woman was taken. Are you sure she is still alive? That doesn’t match what we know of their Modus Operandi.”

The woman looked puzzled, trying to figure out the sentence. It was something you saw every now and then with inhuman creatures. She was obviously intelligent, but her mental processes didn’t necessarily work in the same way as a human’s. Given her relatively straightforward statements, and her primal nature, my guess was that Revel’s question had somehow tripped her up.

“Yes, Lady Sabah was taken. That is what I said.”

“Do you know why they were after her?” Revel asked.

I looked around, my eyes lingering on the civilian visitors, and spotted Tattletale flying towards us.

“Maybe get all the onlookers out of here?” she said.

Revel nodded, and gave a signal to the troopers, who started herding people away from the naked woman.

“I do not know. I was talking to her, as I required her help, but we were interrupted.”

“In other words, they decided to kidnap her instead of killing her after overhearing the conversation,” Lisa said.

“Which means that kidnapping her brought them closer to their goal than killing her,” Revel observed.

“So, besides the Alphas, who else did you teach the whole werewolf thing?” Lisa asked.

I was only slightly surprised, but Revel was actually shocked. It only made sense. She hadn’t seen Lisa do her thing yet, and she didn’t believe in the details surrounding the whole magic thing. In her mind, the woman in front of us was, at most, a powerful Trump that could turn people into werewolves.

“I did not teach him anything. If only it was so easy,” the woman replied with sorrow in her voice.

“But you are the one that taught the Alphas?” I asked. She nodded in confirmation.

“So, what aren’t you saying?” Revel asked.

“My fiancé, his circle was broken. I was asking lady Sabah for assistance in repairing it.”

“Circle?” Revel asked, aiming a sideways glance at me. Skeptical as she might be, she knew I worked with circles every now and then. In fact, I’d used part of the Protectorate budget for a fancy summoning circle in my little workshop, under the guise of a mental tool to help me focus my powers.

“Let me guess. Loup-Garou,” I said, thinking of the worst likely option. Loup-Garous, unlike Werewolves, Lycanthropes or Hexenwolves, have almost no control over their actions. If this woman’s fiancé was one of those, and didn’t have a working containment circle, we were in for what the doctor would call a spontaneous case of diarrhea in close proximity to an automated themantidote.

“Loup-Garou?” Revel asked me.

“More traditional werewolf. Transforms during the full moon. It’s big, it’s dangerous, it regenerates faster than Crawler, it’s out of control, and the only weakness is inherited silver,” I answered.

“Right…” she said, before turning to the naked woman. “When you say your fiancé, I presume you mean mister MacFinn?”

The woman looked confused for a second, before Revel clarified. “Massive amounts of collateral damage the night you say his circle was broken? Not much of a mystery I’m afraid.”

“So, Hexenwolves coming in for the kill overhear your conversation, learn of MacFinn’s werewolf-hood, kidnap Parian so she can’t fix the circle, and hope MacFinn solves their problem for them,” Lisa said.

“Their problem?” the woman asked.

“The fact that we’re all still alive,” Lisa answered.

“Doesn’t make sense, if their operations were synchronized, they didn’t know the Skitter thing was a set-up,” I said.

“Yeah, but the Alpha plan was wishful thinking from the beginning. All it would take is one of them surrendering and a powerful Thinker for the whole plan to fall through. Given a Berserk opponent though, one that is way more likely to be able to kill a couple of you, it becomes drastically more likely that the he’s either killed in battle or send straight to the birdcage, after which office politics, assisted by their subtle maneuvering in civilian identities, makes it more convenient not to investigate everything overly much. Also, you see what I did there with the plan A Alpha thing?”

“If we rescue, will she be able to keep your fiancé contained?” Revel asked.

“I think so, yes. Her or the wizard,” she replied.

“Right. Of course he can. Well, the new plan is the old plan. Campanile and Dovetail will be arriving in about ten minutes. Myrddin, make sure you have your tracking device ready by then. We’ll move out as soon as they get here. Tecton, your team holds down the fort. Miss…?” she said, looking at the woman at the end of the sentence.

“West, Tera West,” she replied.

“I see. I presume, from your appearance, that you have something to offer in a fight. Will you be joining us?” Revel asked.

“To rescue my beloved? Yes,” Tera replied as she started shifting, slowly turning into lithe and agile timber wolf.

Just what we needed, more werewolves. I was suddenly really happy that it was Skitter that survived and came to Chicago, not Hellhound.

***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***

Eventually, I’d tracked the Hexenwolves down to a luxurious estate just outside of Chicago itself. And no, it wasn’t MacFinn’s estate. If only it were.

No, instead, the little golden nameplate had a very similar, very familiar name embossed onto it.

‘Marcone’

Gentleman Johnny Marcone, as he liked to call himself, was one of those criminal masterminds that would, in the end, probably go down for tax evasion. He had fingers in every criminal enterprise you could think of, as well as some non-criminal activities, and he was a feared individual in the Chicago underworld.

The real kicker, however, was that our best intelligence told us that he had absolutely no powers at all. In a political landscape filled with Thinkers, Brutes, actual vampires and other such things, that was an accomplishment.

More worrying was the fact that the gate that had been barring the road had been removed, violently. In addition to that, there were grooves in the concrete that reminded me of the ones around the ruined corpse of the Blue Beetle.

“Anything else we need to know about?” Revel asked the wolf stalking besides her. Which probably wasn’t the right word, but with the way Tera moved, I couldn’t think of anything else to describe it. Tera transformed back to naked lady in order to answer the question.

“The girl… she was with Harley, they must have taken him too,” she replied before shifting back to wolf form.

“Right. Of course, that sound like it makes sense…” Revel replied, having given up. “Myrddin, how much longer until moonrise?”

I looked at my watch, an old-fashioned hourpiece that was so ancient that it actually worked around me.

“Roughly half an hour,” I replied. The tracking process had taken longer than I’d expected, the Hexenwolves’ blood having been polluted somehow by the magic used in the transformation, not entirely the same as the blood of the human involved. Intermittently, the spell had been working optimally, probably at the exact moment my target had changed back into a wolf.

I suddenly heard a voice in my head. Director Heathrow.

“We just got ID on our imprisoned perp. He’s FBI. Be careful, they’ll be armed and dangerous, and that’s not counting their new powers,” the director said.

“You get him to talk yet?” Revel asked.

“No, but Myrddin’s newest toy is working on him. He’s angry and wild, seemingly unnaturally so. We’re guessing it’s a side-effect of their artefacts.”

“I see. We’ll make sure not to touch them then. Don’t want anyone to get corrupted by them.”

“Good luck, team,” Heathrow replied. “Over and out.”

Revel looked around at the assembled troops, and started formulating a plan.

“Allright. I’m not sure what we’ll find, but it’s highly likely that Marcone is not actually guilty here. Our first priority is finding both Parian and MacFinn, and figuring out a way to stop his Changer power from activating. Dovetail, you’re our eye in the sky. Campanile, Myrddin, West, the three of you are joining me in a direct assault, at least presuming they’re at the mansion. Squad A, you’re with us. B and C, scout out the terrain in your vans. You see anything move, you foam it down, we’ll sort everything out later. Shuffle, stick with Team B, use your abilities to clear any areas where the enemy could be hiding. And remember, Marcone might not be guilty, but the entire situation is suspicious, and we have a proper justification to be here.”

Meaning, we’re not supposed to fight Marcone, but don’t feel too bad about devastating his pretty little estate. Maybe mess up his private golf course a bit. Revel was pissed, she had a target, and she had a location where she didn’t have to worry overly much about collateral damage. This was going to be interesting.

“Snaptrap, you’re guarding the entrance, try not to fuck it up. Everyone else, time to move out.”

Together, the three of us, accompanied by four highly trained PRT officers, one with a foam sprayer and one with a grenade launcher, made our way down the long driveway.

Marcone’s mansion looked like it was a warzone. Several smoke grenades were covering the front, obscuring our sight, but where we could see, it looked like the front of the building had been absolutely demolished, and the rest of the building was lit by powerful search lights. On the roof, I saw something that was best described as a candry red metal rhinoceros tearing things apart, and several armed men were shooting roughly in our direction. Or rather, somewhere in between us and the building. The smoke grenades however, meant that while their enemy couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see their enemy either.

“Myrddin, we need to obscure our angle of approach,” Revel said.

“On it,” I replied, preparing a sign with my staff, an opening towards a pocket dimension prepared for just this moment.

The sigil I’d drawn in the air exploded forwards in an absolutely blinding light, temporarily destroying the night vision of anyone in front of us. Then, I switched to my magic, and hoped I wouldn’t overly mess up the gear the squad was using. Tecton had worked on it, so it would probably be okay, but I wasn’t entirely sure.

“Hexus” I muttered, aiming my will and my magic at the large lamps lighting up our target, leaving only a nearly gone evening sun to light things up.

As our group started jogging, I looked around, and saw that we were missing someone.

“Where’s Tera?” I asked in between breaths.

“I think she ran ahead,” one of the troopers answered.

Half a minute later, I spotted her. Or rather, she allowed me to spot her. I signalled her position to Revel, and we made our way over to where she was standing. A large rock in between her and the mansion, with bullets flying around it wildly.

A young teenage girl, about fourteen years old or so, was sitting next to her, wearing an overly large Cuirass and a mask with a lopsided smiley face on it. On top of the mask were two tiny antenna made out of bolts. I would’ve thought it neat for something made by a teenager, except for the part where this girl had obviously demolished the Blue Beetle in a fit of, well, I don’t know why.

The girl looked shocked to see us, and hid behind Tera’s furry body. Tera, in the meantime, was mostly just confused about the girl’s reaction, and transformed back to naked lady again. Not that I’m complaining, but it gets old after a while, I’d probably seen her naked more than I’d seen Susan without clothes on, and I’d only known her for a single day.

“What happened?” Tera asked her.

“I was in the bathroom, changing my, you know… anyway, these two cops came by, citing noise complaints and something with building codes, and they arrested Harley. I thought it was weird, so I followed them, and saw them go into this place, so I decided to rescue him,”

“By attacking a completely unrelated criminal masterind,” I said.

“Alleged criminal mastermind,” Revel corrected me.

“What? No, I saw them jump the fence to this place, and there’s like fifty guys with guns here. It’s obviously him!” the girl said.

“Or, it’s a set-up, they’re creating the biggest clusterfuck they can, muddy the waters by getting Marcone involved.”

Revel’s hand went to her earpiece. “Dovetail, Squads B and C, you find anything yet?”

“Outside of the fighting at the mansion? Not much. I presume that flash was you guys?”

“Myrddin’s work. Tell me when you’ve got more.”

“Will do, good luck in there.”

“You too.”

“So, what now?” I asked.

“Now, we’re going to do something utterly unprecedented. We’re going to try and have a civil talk with Marcone,” Revel replied.

***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***

Revel and I entered Marcone’s half-destroyed mansion under a white flag made out of a piece of my robe, leaving the rest behind us. Waiting in the lobby, I spotted Marcone. All around him stood thugs with guns, high-quality guns that were probably legal according to the letter of the law, but very much not the spirit. The real stand-out was a rather big and tall man standing next to him, taller than me even, with red hair in a military buzz cut.

“Miss Revel, how nice to meet you again, how have you been?” the man asked.

“Busy, you know, with all the crime-fighting and saving innocent people,” Revel replied.

“Ah, like our little problem outside? I promise, I had absolutely nothing to do with it. I know what people say about me, but you can trust me, I’m a perfect gentleman.”

“Trust me Marcone, better men than you have tried, she’s not interested,” I said.

“Of course Myrddin. That said, we both know you don’t quite match up to a man like me,” he replied.

That stung. Not because he’d insulted me, but because I had to admit that, when I’d started out in the Protectorate, I’d had a small crush on Revel, and I still wasn’t entirely sure whether seeing her crush a ghoul’s skull to smithereens had destroyed or enhanced that crush.

“And you, of course, are a real Casanova. I mean, I presume that’s how you got the big guy to work for you?”

“Shut it Myrddin, we’re not here to fight., or flirt for that matter,” Revel commanded.

“Which brings us to an important question, why are you here?” Marcone asked.

“We have actionable intelligence telling us that someone is trying to frame you for murder,” Revel said.

“The question being of course, why they needed to frame you when everybody already knows you’re as guilty as a fox in a henhouse.”

“Myrddin, remind me again why I brought you along?”

“My charming personality? The fact that, unlike Campanile, I can move beyond punnage into superior forms of humour?”

“That, and no-one takes you seriously anyways. Disregarding that, mister Marcone, there are three members of a group that we have dubbed the Hexenwolves on your premises, carrying at least one, but probably two hostages. The assault on your home was caused by someone mistakenly thinking you responsible.”

“Gee, I wonder why anyone would think that?”

Revel gave me a quick kick in the shins, more for show than out of anger. After all, she’d known how I’d behave the moment she asked me to come along.

“Regretteable, that they would attempt to shift blame unto an upstanding citizen such as myself,” Marcone replied. “Now, I presume you’re here to ask me for help?”

“From someone like you? Never. I’m simply here to inform you that I will view any attack from you on anyone that is not the hexenwolves as an attack on me, and that you will allow us unobstructed access to your grounds in order to find these villains.”

“But of course, I am, after all, an upstanding citizen. In fact, you have my utmost compliance. Taking down these criminals is, after all, in favour of both of us.”

“Of course,” Revel said.

“Well, you know the way out, and I can promise you that they are not inside right now. Oh, and Myrddin?” Marcone said. “I’m sorry to hear about your car, I know you love the classics.”

I had been about to turn around, but that last sentence made me look at him again.

Marcone and I had met before, once. It had been last year, when a practitioner was using dark magic to build up a drug empire, in opposition to Marcone.

Marcone had been nice, gentlemanly even, providing me with whatever information he could on the case. Not because he was such a nice person, bu because he knew that it would mean that I eliminated one of his main competitors. What I hated about it, was that he knew that I would stop the guy anyways. He had been using me, plain and simple, and there was nothing I could do about it.

“I hope you have a lot of fun redecorating,” I said. “And maybe this time you can get an actual shark tank. Trust me, all the big boys have one.”

“Ah yes, and next time, I’ll be sure to find a Tinker to requisition a very slowly moving laserbeam,” he replied.

“Don’t forget the big red self-destruct button!” I yelled at him while following Revel, who was leaving the building.

“Don’t worry, I’ve read the list too. I’m still working on acquiring the services of a five-year-old.”

“As long as your doomsday device is up to code. Trust me, you do NOT want to mess with the OSHA, they’re even worse than the IRS!” I yelled back before using my powers to create white noise. I just really wanted to make sure that I had the last word.

“How long Myrddin?” Revel asked me.

“Fifteen minutes left before the dogshit hits the fan.”

Again, she spoke in her earpiece. “Dovetail, we’re done here. Any further observations?”

Then, she waited for the answer, which didn’t come.

“B-squad, C-squad, report in, what’s happened to Dovetail?” she then said. I really had to ask Tecton for a custom earpiece.

After a few tense seconds, it seemed like one of the squads was replying. Revel, always courteous, put her earpiece on speaker mode.

“-got two of them around some sort of pit-like structure. They’re carrying Dovetail, and I think she’s sedated or something. There’s also a girl, college-aged, and an older man, both of them bound and unconscious,” The crackling voice came over the radio.

“Sounds like Parian and Macfinn. You get a location from him?” I asked.

“I did, but something doesn’t sit right with me. It’s almost too easy.”

“Fourteen minutes left. Doesn’t sound all that easy to me.”

“It’s something else… something we’re missing,” Revel said as we reached the rest of the group again.

“Wait… didn’t they say there were two of them?” I asked, before thinking about what that meant. Then, we both looked at each other.

“Taylor!” I said, luckily hidden behind Revel’s simultaneous exclamation of “Skitter!”


	12. The Witch

“So what was it like, being a supervillain?” Cuff asked.  
  
I was about to respond to her question, when she did so herself.  
  
“Is it true that you, like, actually stole candy from a baby?”  
  
“What? No, of course not. Life is not a comic book you know.”  
  
“Well, you say that, but you robbed a bank right? So you stole from people’s bank accounts. So what if a baby had a bank account there? And then the baby was going to use that money to buy candy? So basically, by robbing that bank, you stole candy from a baby,” she replied.  
  
I had to admit, I wasn’t entirely sure how to even start arguing against hypothetical, it was just incorrect in so many places.  
  
Then again, this was the girl that had almost been convinced she was a metal construct by Tattletale.  
  
“Well, you work for the government right? And you get paid with government money, which is gathered by taxation. Even babies have to pay tax, so whenever you get a paycheck, you’re taking a tiny piece of candy away from a baby.”  
  
“That’s bullshit and you know it!” she said, stubbornly folding her arms.  
  
“Hey, you started with the shitty arguments.”  
  
I dropped the line of conversation, and sank back into the hospital bed, trying not to think about the pain my broken ribs were giving me now that the adrenaline had worn off.  
  
I thought back to the last time I’d been in a hospital bed like this, slightly more than a week ago. Back in Brockton Bay, or at least someplace very close to it.  
  
I still wasn’t sure whether what I’d done had been stupid or brave, and whether it had been any sort of skill on my part, or pure luck that had allowed me to survive. It was probably the latter.  
  
A few hours ago, I’d gotten beaten up by a shitty werewolf, what had I been thinking, going up against Leviathan on my own?  
  
Oh, right, I’d been thinking that my dad could’ve been in that shelter. And now, Danny was dead, while mister Gladly had somehow managed to survive.  
  
With my eyes closed, without me controlling them, I felt my bugs fall back into their natural routines. I felt the ants respond to chemical trails that led them to food, felt patterns that weren’t quite like the flowers I knew, heard strange tones that I knew should have been voices, felt the air move around flies that were dodging slaps from people. It was weird, withdrawing into their world like that, figuring out what was going on by using a thousand different senses from a thousand different species, each completely different from a human’s. I felt a fly land on a glazed donut, that didn’t taste anything like what I had been expecting from a donut, but was still delicious to the tiny little body eating it. I felt a butterfly land on someone’s hat, thinking it was food because of the pattern of strange colours. I focussed on it, trying to figure out what made it choose to go there, what stimuli had motivated it, but as I paid more attention to it, it’s senses became sharp and concrete in my mind, and I started to get a headache from the abnormal information feeding into my brain.  
  
“You allright?” Cuff asked, a caring smile on her face. She must’ve noticed something.  
  
“Yeah, just a headache. My powers,” I replied.  
  
“I thought only Thinkers got those?” she asked.  
  
“Don’t know about that. I mean, I know Tattletale used to get these massive migraines, but I’m not quite sure how that works. I just get headaches trying to actually see through my bugs. They have weird eyes that don’t work how you’d expect them to.”  
  
“Oh, that’s gotta be annoying. Do you, like, see ultraviolet and infrared? I saw a documentary about flowers once, and they said there were lots of weird colour patterns on them we couldn’t see.”  
  
“Maybe, that might be part of it, my brain not knowing how to see those colours, but I think it’s the faceted eyes too, maybe. It’s been getting better. I mean, when I just triggered, I spend a few days in the mental ward because I couldn’t shut them out, and just felt things crawling everywhere.”  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?” Cuff asked, nicely.  
  
“Not really. I’m… trying to put that part of my life behind me. I mean, I miss my friends, a lot, but I don’t miss the whole villain thing. Hurting people and making them fear you.”  
  
Cuff just nodded, unsure of how to reply.  
  
“So, what’s being a hero like?” I asked.  
  
“Dunno really. Not what you’d think. Not what they make it look like on tv,” she replied.  
  
“In what way?”  
  
“Mostly, it’s boring. Patrols, learning regulations, safety stuff, meetings on possible new supervillains in town,” she said, giving me a silly wink.  
  
“So, do you regret joining then?”  
  
“Not really. I mean, it’s not like I ever wanted to be a hero, so there’s not really anything to be disappointed in. I guess.”  
  
“What do you mean? Were you arrested or something?”  
  
“Not really. I mean, it’s complicated. It was… let’s just say you’re not the only person who lost a lot to the Endbringers. I… I wanted to fight them, wanted revenge, but the thing is, I’m not much of a fighter. I spend half of my few fights trying to bring myself to do something, and then by the time I build up the courage it’s already over. So, I guess I don’t mind not having to do a lot of that stuff, instead just training for stuff that’s probably never going to happen.”  
  
“Stuff that’s not going to happen?”  
  
“I mean, like, we all know the Endbringers, how they’re probably going to kill everyone. How us parahumans are probably the only thing that can stand up to them. I think, maybe, that that’s why there’s parahumans, you know? The planet defending itself from these all-destroying invaders by giving us powers, and us then abusing them. So, if we have to fight Endbringers, why are they teaching us hand-to-hand combat? I mean, do they expect me to perform a Tombstone on the Simmurgh or something?”  
  
I thought about it for a second. From what Harry had told me, and for some strange reason I believed him, parahumans and Endbringers were probably related. Parahumans, however, most definitely weren’t some sort of natural defence mechanism. There was very little natural about the thing I had seen, chained and locked up in Harry’s mind.  
  
“You learned how to do the Tombstone?” I asked her.  
  
“If only. Lieutenant Murphy, the woman giving the classes? She’s a real hard-ass in class. Especially to me and Grace. Grace likes it, learning all that stuff, but I think Murph’s going hard on my cause of my Brute stuff.”  
  
“I thought you were a metallokinetic?” I asked her.  
  
“Well, yeah, but I got this minor Brute thing going on too. Murphy says it means I have amazing joints, something about my ligaments being unnaturally sturdy, stuff like that. Nothing that would protect me from a bullet, but it’s enough to make sure I never twist my ankles or anything like that.”  
  
“Sounds pretty sweet. I mean, I just got my bugs, and that’s it.”  
  
“Yeah, but you’ve never had to do a hundred push-ups because of that. Trust me, it gets really boring after the first fifty or so.”  
  
“I guess, but it’s not like villains don’t have hand-to-hand classes. Brian pounded me hard,” I said, before realizing what words just left my mouth.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“No… he saw me as more of a sister… all the physical contact was fun though, strong sweaty guys grappling with you.”  
  
“Tell me about it, you should see Tecton out of his armour. Trust me; he’s a looker, especially for a Tinker.”  
  
“Like, stupid muscles? Or just well-toned?”  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
I had to admit, talking to Cuff, to Ava, like that had been fun. Sure, I had Lisa, but whenever I talked to Lisa, it always seemed like she was in charge, explaining stuff to me, instructing me in the ways of supervillainy. Maybe it was unfair to do that, Lisa was a good friend, a great one, but she herself had admitted her powers messed with her brain a bit, making her functionally asexual. It was probably worse now that she was a ghost, although I’d have to figure out exactly who this Bob person was she’d been talking to.  
  
Rachel had been nice too, but she was very, well, special. Not in the bad way, but in the descriptive way. The one time I’d talked boys with her, she’d advised me to go up to Brian and just ask him to have sex with him, although she’d somehow said so in an even cruder way.  
  
With Ava, I’d just had a half-hour conversation on superhero butts, without any political bullshit around it. It had been fun, which led to me laughing, which led to my ribs hurting, which led to me realizing that morphine was amazing.  
  
What I’d also noticed was that, when my mind was fucked up on opioids, the data from my bugs didn’t hurt as much. I dimly remembered something like that happening before, after one of Bakuda’s bombs had fried my nervous system, I think. It was all a bit fuzzy, what with the damage to my nervous system.  
  
I laid back in my bed, and started observing the building, vaguely seeing shapes move around.  
  
I looked at the lobby, spotting people walking back and forth. In the building next to it was the merchandising store, selling t-shirts, mugs, posters, and a whole lot of Myrrdin memorabilia.  
  
Say what you want about the way he acts, it gets people buying stuff, and that’s at least part of what the PRT wants. There were fake wizard robes, with a smaller Wanton-based set as well. They sold pentacle-hangers, wizard staffs, and a little bracelet with tiny Protectorate shields on it, mimicking the one Harry had on his left hand.  
  
Then there were the action figures. I could make out Revel with her lantern, Myrddin with his big robe and staff, a larger new figurine of Campanile, and what I was quite sure was a Tecton with removable power-armour, dressed in some sort of spandex-like undersuit. The tiny plastic butt was well-defined, although that could have just been marketing.  
  
In another room, one that was well-secured and only contained two flies total, I could sense an interrogation. The hexenwolf, the one Harry had caught in his banishment spell, was sitting there, chained up, being interviewed by someone that must have been the director, and Tattletale’s floating drone. Nearby, I felt the belt he had been using in a containment room. Apparently, it was black magic, corrupting the mind of the user. By the vitriolic behaviour of the captured criminal, I could believe that.  
  
I started putting flies on the back of everyone’s heads, trying to get a sense of how everything worked in the offices. Someone would walk in, talk to the people at the reception, and then either take a seat in the lobby, waiting for their appointment, or walk right on through the building, usually with an escort, but not always.  
  
The people walking around without an escort usually had a lanyard with a card attached to it, showing it to people at various security checkpoints, often with an additional piece of ID. From the way the checkpoints were set up, the medical bay was quite deep into the building, covered by a lot of security. It made sense, this was probably both where they treated villains and their own, meaning they needed it secure to protect from escapes, as well as to defend the people lying here.  
  
One of the people I’d been following, a professional-looking woman with a toned physique, was making her way deeper into the building, in the direction of the medical bay. I wouldn’t have thought anything off it, but every now and then she stood still, sniffing the air or something like that, I wasn’t quite sure. Then, she’d take a turn again, and start sniffing at the next corner.  
  
“Cuff, there’s someone acting weird, I’m not sure why, but I don’t trust it.”  
  
“What do you mean?” she asked  
  
“It’s this woman; she keeps smelling the air, coming closer.”  
  
“You think it’s one of them?” she asked, and I could hear the fear in her voice. It’d been true, she wasn’t much of a fighter.  
  
“Probably,” I replied as I started to gather bugs in the walls and vents nearby, preparing for battle.  
  
If this was a rematch, I couldn’t let her get closer to me.  
  
I looked at the checkpoint closest to me, with two troopers standing next to a door somewhere, and started using my bugs to write something on the floor in front of them.  
  
 _“Suspicious person”_ was the text I wrote, with an arrow pointing towards the strange woman.  
  
They said something to each other, called something in over the radio, and followed the arrows, leading them to the woman.  
  
They talked to her, probably asking for ID and being bureaucratic obstructionists. She responded by yelling at them angrily, in a way that reminded me of the man sitting in an interrogation room nearby. I couldn’t exactly understand what they were saying, but she was angry, I knew that.  
  
Something happened, one of the men said something that triggered her, and she reached for something at her side.  
  
I could only barely make out the belt hidden below her suit jacket, when she turned into a large, sturdy wolf, clawing at the two troopers.  
  
“She’s one of them!” I yelled, and I send forth my bugs.  
  
The troopers had almost immediately recovered, and started firing at the wolf, which responded by dashing through them, turning a corner with incredibly agility, only to crash headfirst into a swarm of biting, stinging insects.  
  
The wolf howled out in pain, and Ava winced, holding herself to a wall. Luckily, she was having a hard time figuring out which room we were in. The hospital smell probably didn’t help, especially with her enhanced nose.  
  
Around the building, I noticed people running towards our position, ready to react to the infiltrator, but they were too late, only halfway there when the wolf smashed through the door of the room I was in.  
  
From my position, sitting up in the bed, I could clearly see her murderous eyes, seeping fluids both clear and red from the bugs biting and stinging at it. Blood seeped from her wounds, but she wasn’t down yet. Maybe she was mentally too far gone to feel the pain, maybe she just didn’t care.  
  
“I don’t get it. What’re you trying to accomplish here? Your buddy already got arrested. The jig is up,” I taunted.  
  
She snarled in anger, unable to make human sounds through her inhuman jaw. I could easily figure out what it meant though. She was going to try and kill me. This was just what I wanted. Before she could pounce on me, Ava smashed a heavy piece of medical equipment into her. She was launched across the room into another expensive looking machine I didn’t recognize.  
  
I heard a loud snap, and what I thought was the sound of her bones cracking, but it apparently hadn’t been enough. The beast, not yet defeated, turned towards Cuff, snarling at her, blood and spit being launched through the air.  
  
Ava screamed, and curled up in a ball in the corner. I couldn’t expect more back-up from her, she was too afraid for that.  
  
Having scared the girl, the wolf turned towards me, its beastly jaw grinning in a way that was far too human for something of its shape. I looked over her, seeing the places where my bugs had removed the fur and torn into the flesh, and where quickly growing boils covered the skin. One of her front paws was broken, the bone visibly piercing the skin, but it ignored the wound completely.  
  
Sure, she wasn’t as big as Rachel’s dogs had been, but she was actually coming for me.  
  
My bugs, covering almost its entire body in a desparate attempt to stop it, told me it was going to move before my eyes could see it. Almost instinctively, I rolled away from her just as she pounced, and while was soaring through the air, I managed to clear the hospital bed, landing on the ground with a painful thud.  
  
The hexenwolf, having misjudged its leap, flew over my head, crashing into another piece of medical equipment, something big and electronic.  
  
It shook its head, and looked at me again with that impossible smile, happy, even though it’s face had been torn apart by my minions. Slowly, she got ready to pounce, and go for the kill. This time, however, I wouldn’t be able to dodge. Time seemed to slow down as I looked at my impending death, desperately trying to find a way out.  
  
My eyes flitter around the room, looking for a solution but not finding one. People were running towards us, but they wouldn’t be there in time. There weren’t any weapons around either. My combat knife, extendable baton and pepperspray were safely locked away in my utility compartment, which was in a storage locker somewhere.  
  
The room itself didn’t give me any options either. The bed had been secured to the ground, and the furniture was solidly built into the walls. The only thing I could think of was the piece of electronics the wolf was still standing in.  
  
I could see the exposed wires, could see that they were probably charged, I just had to find a way to get them to touch each other, or rather, to both touch the hexenwolf.  
  
Maybe I could create some sort of replacement wire out of bugs? Line them up and use them as a conductor?  
  
The beast smiled, blood and drool seeping past its lips, onto some of the exposed wires, creating a small spark.  
  
If only that spark somehow managed to make its way to the beast, I thought. I tried with some bugs, but they electricity stopped me from properly controlling them.  
  
For the second time, I felt the beast shift ever so slightly, getting ready to pounce, and I knew that this time, I was done for.  
  
If only those wires had fallen just a little differently.  
  
Suddenly, the small spark grew into a bigger one, connecting two of the wires. Then, out of nowhere, the electrical spark started lashing out, connecting to each and every one of the bugs swarming the hexenwolf, frying them, and the beast with it, encased in some sort of electrical webbing.  
  
Half a second later, the arc of electricity shifted to a wire in the wall, arcing through it, as well as connecting to the rest of the machinery and the electrical lighting, each and every bit of electrical energy returning to the wolf, making it spasm uncontrollably, and give off the smell of burning fur.  
  
Then, Ava, having gathered her courage again now that the beast was stunned, dashed forward, punching with one of her massive metallic gauntlets, which she had formed into a metal spike.  
  
The beast, its muscles spasming, was unable to dodge, and Ava’s hit went straight through its jaw, into its skull, splattering gore everywhere as the electricity subsided, leaving us in a completely dark room.  
  
Then, it seemed like time started moving at its normal rate again. The two troopers I’d asked for help before dashed through the door, one of them trying to activate a flashlight, with the other having given up on his. At the same time, Cuff started screaming, having realized what she had just done, and the fire alarm noticed the smoke from the half-burning wolf, and decided to quench us in some stale water.  
  
The guard without the flashlight ran for Ava, trying to calm down, while the other was still struggling with his flashlight.  
  
Half a minute later, I saw a light appear, and my bugs told me it was Tecton, using a headlight build into his armour. As he entered the room, I started to see the mess we’d made in our short fight. The machinery, the bugs, and whatever had happened with the electricity arcing around.  
  
Part of me thought I was dealing with a mysterious stranger acting as a guardian angel again, but something told me that that wasn’t what was going on. There was something else there, and I was pretty sure I was responsible.  
  
As Tecton approached and saw me lying on the ground, I nodded in Ava’s direction. Tecton got the hint, and started comforting her, while one of the troopers, now able to see something, picked me up from the ground.  
  
“Oww, ribs…” I said, and he shifted slightly getting me out of the room. Behind me, Tecton followed, holding a panicked Ava, and behind the two of them I could feel the wolf slowly start changing, part of the wolf-body sloughing off it into a strange liquid, leaving behind the woman, her head almost entirely destroyed by Ava’s enhanced strike.  
  
Around me, I could hear the troopers and other personnel chattering, making plans to secure the building, that sort of thing. The trooper holding me put me on a movable stretcher. As he did so, I sat up, but he pushed me down and insisted I stay there. Not feeling all that amazing, I was all right with that, and tried to relax through the hubbub around me.  
  
From what I could gather, whatever had happened had destroyed most electronics in the building, leaving behind only Tecton’s tinkertech tools. At first, I thought I’d somehow caused a power outage, but apparently stuff with batteries wasn’t working anymore either. Some of them started arguing, something about Myrddin and an involuntary Shaker effect, but I was honestly too tired to follow the conversation. I’d been drifting away before we’d been interrupted, and the adrenaline wasn’t enough to counter the wave of exhaustion coming over me.


	13. The Loup-Garou

“They’re not answering,” Campanile reported.  
  
“Then there’s nothing we can do. Hell’s bells, it may have already happened,” I answered.  
  
“Less worrying, more stopping these Werewolves,” Revel commanded.  
  
“Hexenwolves, I mean, it’s a rather important distinction,” I replied, but Revel was already flying away.  
  
“Wait, I thought we were worrying about a Loup-Garou?” Campanile joked.  
  
As I looked around, I saw that Tera was already leaping after Revel, followed by a running Alpha squad. Or maybe it was Aleph squad, that stuff was terribly inconsistent.  
  
“You coming with us?” Campanile asked the teenage girl that was currently climbing on top of the malformed, animated wreck of what looked like a cement truck.  
  
“Uh-huh,” she replied, nodding.  
  
Going by what I remembered from the classes on parahuman psychology that the PRT had provided, she probably wouldn’t be very talkative for a while, while she was internalizing recent events.  
  
She’d recently gained powers, abilities that made her far stronger than anything she’d ever come into contact with before. For the past few weeks, she’d been working under the presumption that she was basically invincible, even more so than the average teenager. Just now, she’d realized that she wasn’t, and that there were a lot of people more powerful than her. For now, her mind was far too busy trying to figure out her place in the world to actually talk to anyone about it.  
  
Just as I was thinking about the girl, Campanile grabbed me by the back of my robe’s collar, lifting me up into the air.  
  
“The fuck! Why are you lifting me like this? I’m not a cat!” I yelled out.  
  
“I wish. Cats hold still when you grab them like this. Anyway, let’s get going, last one there is a shitty wizard!” he replied, and he started running, the girl following behind us.  
  
Eventually, while we made our way through Marcone’s now completely torn up private golf course, courtesy of a few heavy trucks driving around, I saw the site of the battle. Or rather, the hostage situation.  
  
The Hexenwolves, having quickly taken stock of the situation, had come to the obvious conclusion.  
  
They wouldn’t be winning this fight. In fact, they didn’t even stand half a chance. They’d been relying on superior numbers, the element of surprise, and the utmost disregard for the unwritten rules in order to bring them this far. Right now, they had none of those at their side.  
  
Both of them were in human form, wearing urban conflict gear. High quality stuff that wasn’t exactly available to civilians, but it wasn’t tinkertech either. Both of them had a hostage in their arms, a pistol to their heads. One of them was holding an unconscious Dovetail, while the other had a middle-aged man, built like a barn. Tera’s fiancé, the Loup Garou. He didn’t look as French as I’d expected, which made sense, because his name was MacFinn, not MaqueFinnes or anything like that.  
  
They were surrounded on all sides. Or rather, most sides. Sure, there were PRT troopers to the left and to the right of them, and Revel was looking at them from the front, meaning Tera was probably hidden behind them somewhere. But that left both the earth and the sky completely open, in addition to any extradimensional approaches. Had they the skills, they could simply pop into the Nevernever through a portal to escape.  
  
Of course, such a move would quickly be followed by them being eaten by something horrible, but that was kind of beside the point.  
  
“Just listen, okay. We analysed the belt, there’s a mentally degenerative effect on it, which you might have noticed. Turn yourselves in, and we’ll be able to get you the help you need.” Revel said.  
  
“You? Help us? Don’t you get it? That’s the entire problem! Everyone always relying on you incompetent idiots! Do you know how many people get away because you fuck up and don’t want to go in?”  
  
“So you’re putting hits out on teenagers. Sounds like a great plan!” I said from my position, dangling from Campanile’s hand.  
  
I used my staff, trying to use a trick I’d been practicing for a while now. I created an almost invisible opening to one of my pocket dimensions. In this case, one of the pocket dimensions without gravity. Then, I focussed my mind, trying to use one of the little bits of earth magic I knew  
  
 _“Gravitus”_ I mumbled, using my magic to extend the gravity from my pocket dimension into the real world. As the spell completed, I felt the weight lift off of my neck, and when Campanile let loose, I floated in the sky.  
  
It wasn’t flying, not yet at least, I was still working on that. It was, however, a pretty neat way to float around in one place, looking all impressive. Luckily, there weren’t any cameras around, or Image would start forcing me to carry around a broomstick as well.  
  
“Shut up! Don’t you guys know anything? You can’t just let people go because they have superpowers, that’s basically the definition of corruption!” the man yelled at me.  
  
“Funny, I thought that was using your connections to hide your secret killing squad. But hey, you’re the expert here.”  
  
“Myrddin, we’re in a difficult hostage situation here. Could you maybe shut up?” Revel asked.  
  
“Aye-aye cap’n.”  
  
“As I was saying, put down the hostages, and we’ll get you the help you need,” Revel said to the two villains.  
  
“I’ve got a better idea. How about you guys leave, and we’ll let MacFinn here get rid of the biggest scumbag the city’s ever known. You won’t have to lift a finger,” the man replied.  
  
Revel’s hand went to her chin, thinking about the statement. She was actually thinking about it, not just dismissing it out of hand like the ridiculous plan it was.  
  
“Boss, you can’t seriously be thinking about this…” Campanile said.  
  
“Fine, you release your other hostages, and we have a deal,” Revel said, eliciting gasp of surprise from some of the troopers.  
  
“I knew you could listen to reason,” The Hexenwolf said. “Harris, drop her and come over here.”  
  
The other Hexenwolf, a rather skinny ginger man (no, they’re not soulless, even though you’d think they were from looking at them,) hesitated for a few seconds, before doing as his boss said, and dropping an unconscious Dovetail to the floor, and slowly walking over, gun still in his hands.  
  
“So, what now boss?” the guy mumbled.  
  
“We wait, and we run like hell. Marcone will keep him busy,” the boss said.  
  
“Wait, who exactly will Marcone keep busy?” I asked.  
  
“MacFinn here, you fucking idiot,” the man replied, pointing at his gagged hostage with his free hand.  
  
“Oh really? Because I don’t see anyone there,” I replied, quickly sweeping out my staff, pointing it at the poor, ridiculously rich, man that was about to be transformed into a tremendously powerful monstrosity.  
  
The Manton effect is this thing with parahuman abilities that makes them even weirder than you’d expect. There’s lots of stuff to it, but it tends to have to do with living stuff, and weird limitation regarding clothes and that kind of thing. It’s a whole area of research that I’m not all that interested in. What I am interested in, is what it means for my powers.  
  
I could suck things into and out of pocket dimensions, and do a whole lot of weird shit with them. The problem was, I only had one pocket dimension that was really optimized for carrying people. The negative side of it was that I could only hold one person in it. The positive part of it is that my little brainbuddy takes that very literally, and will carry that specific person (plus clothes, somehow. Don’t ask me why,) into the dimension.  
  
In this case, that person was MacFinn, and not the man holding him.  
  
The moment I gave them my cue, the rest of the team sprang into action. Revel launched an orb of force into the Hexenwolf leader, campanile used his gravity aura to make things difficult for his sidekick, Shuffle created a canyon between them and Dovetail, and I was pretty sure I saw Tera running for the prone body of Parian, who had, unlike MacFinn, been drugged, since it was probably impossible to stop her from using her powers to break free if she hadn’t been. Can’t really bind someone whose whole power revolves around manipulating stuff like string and rope.  
  
To complete the picture, one of the nearby vans started spraying a ridiculous amount of containment foam, covering the half-battered Hexenwolves in sticky goo. And I don’t care what people say, I’ll always keep thinking that that’s a funny way of saying it. If they didn’t want me to laugh they shouldn’t have made that stuff white.  
  
“I have to admit… that went easier than I expected,” Campanile said.  
  
From that sentence alone, you could see that Campanile was a total rookie. Sure, I hadn’t been in the game as long as some of the more experienced people, but even I knew that no, you did not give the universe a chance like that.  
  
Within seconds of Campanile saying it, the moon rose, shining through a treeline at the border of Marcone’s ridiculously large estate.  
  
For just a second, I thought we’d be okay. Sure, the moon was there, but MacFinn was safely hidden in a pocket dimension, in a place where the sun never shone, nor the moon.  
  
Then, my usual luck asserted itself, and I felt a surge of power move through me, or rather, my parahuman ability.  
  
I really should’ve known better.  
  
The curse of the Loup-Garou is no simple enchantment. Most magic fades away with sunrise, a time of renewal. Even powerful spells need to be maintained, or they’re eroded over time. A major curse like the one on MacFinn, one that has lasted for hundreds of years? That needs a ridiculous amount of power, and some sort of anchor. Or in this case, two anchors, that create the curse when coming into contact with each other.  
  
One of those being MacFinn’s bloodline, the other being the moon itself.  
  
Like I said, major mojo.  
  
And if a big old containment circle couldn’t stop the cursee from transforming, my little pocket dimension wouldn’t work either.  
  
By placing myself between the two halves of the curse, all I’d done was force it to go through me. And, powerfull as I might be, I wasn’t strong enough to handle all of that energy.  
  
My only saving grace was that I’d used my staff as a focus.  
  
I flinched, as it quickly heated up, before exploding into red-hot cinders. I’d spend a whole lot of time creating a tool that would work with both my magic, and my parahuman ability, and it wouldn’t be easy to create a new one.  
  
As my staff was utterly destroyed, and my parahuman ability on the fritz, I was very happy I’d bound my inner demon. Or rather, space parasite. Almost the same thing really. I felt it reeling, trying to lash out at me for making it do too much. Were I someone else, I’d have a pounding headache right now, but the binding meant that I’d just be unable to use that side of my abilities for a while.  
  
Then, just when I realized that that meant I wouldn’t have access to my zero-g dimension anymore, I dropped to the floor like Wile E. Coyote.  
  
Then, I noticed the Loup-Garou clawing its way back into our dimension through a rift in spacetime. Yeah, that wasn’t going to be a problem.  
  
Before it had fully torn its way through, the former cement-mixer crashed into it, pushing it back, and tearing the world a new one in the process.  
  
It didn’t take, and the beast threw the cement-mixer to the side before fully stepping into our dimension.  
  
“Campanile, grab the hostages. Alpha squad, get out of here, Shuffle, Beta and Charlie, limit its movements,” Revel called out, putting on her command hat.  
  
I switched my blasting rod from my left hand to my right, and got ready for a fight, using just my magic.  
  
It probably wouldn’t work, but we needed to do something to stop this thing from rampaging.  
  
From behind me, I felt three more metal monstrosities run past me. Felt, because they stomped the ground while dashing forwards to a ridiculous degree.  
  
As the metal minions tore into it, the beast roared out in pain, even though its wounds healed almost immediately.  
  
“ _Forzare_ ” I yelled out, bashing the beast in the head with a bolt of pure force, twisting its neck backwards in a way that didn’t look healthy.  
  
Of course, half a second later, the neck twisted back, and the beast was completely healed again, and looking straight at me.  
  
It roared, and dashed straight at me, completely ignoring the metal beasts trying to tear at it.  
  
In the corner of my eyes, I saw one of the vans move into position, and lay out a spray of containment foam, making use of the wolves’ straightforward path to lead it.  
  
The foam landed on the beast, and started expanding, covering the beast in a thick layer of white goo.  
  
Again, it’s just not getting old.  
  
Then, just as the beast was about to reach me, Shuffle used his ability, and a large chunk of earth and boulders appeared between me and the beast.  
  
I wasn’t sure what happened next, because it was out of my view, but I saw some orbs flying from Revel’s lantern, and heard some bones crunching, so I could make an educated guess.  
  
Beside me, I suddenly saw the girl again, this time standing on a smaller critter.  
  
“He’s just gonna keep healing,” the girl said, speaking from experience.  
  
“So, we have to find some way to contain him,” I replied.  
  
“How? Your banishment didn’t work, and he’s gonna tear through the foam.”  
  
“A magic circle, one he can’t cross. Problem is, we’d need to trap him, and we don’t really have the time to set up anything like that.”  
  
“So… we’re fucked?”  
  
“Basically. It’s either that or strike with inherited silver, that’s its only weakness,” I said.  
  
“You mean, he’ll die?”  
  
“Yes, he’ll die.”  
  
“That’s not… it’s not his fault, it’s a curse…” she said.  
  
“I know, but it’s either that, or let him run around killing people, and something tells me he’d rather die,” I said.  
  
The girl looked dejected, completely out of ideas. Behind me, back in the arena Shuffle had created with his powers, I could hear the sound of metal being torn apart, and Revel’s orbs of force crushing supernatural beast bones. I could only hope that Campanile had been able to get the hostages out of there, I wasn’t really in any condition to do anything right now, what with half my abilities being on the fritz.  
  
“So, the circle’s gotta be magic right?” the girl asked.  
  
“Pretty much, yeah. Anyone can make it, but without something to power it, it’s just a geometric shape on the floor. I’d need to empower it first.”  
  
“So, if someone else made the circle-“  
  
“Then I can empower that instead,” I finished her sentence.  
  
“I uhmmm. I don’t I can though, I mean, he’ll probably just tear it apart if I get my minions to do something," she said.  
  
“Let’s see. Campanile can’t go into melee against this guy, Revel’s blasts won’t be too useful either, Shuffle is too imprecise… Say, Parian’s a telekinetic isn’t she?  
  
“Don’t know, Tera said she knew magic.”  
  
“She does both. I think. Anyway, I don’t have any better ideas, so let’s see if we can find her,” I said, hopping on behind the car-destroying hooligan.  
  
Then, about five seconds after we started jumping around, I was reminded of the fight going on by a PRT van flying through the air, landing right in front of us.  
  
Luckily, it seemed like the trooper had managed to get out of it before the Loup-Garou had reached them. At least I couldn’t see any body parts.  
  
There was blood, but that could’ve been werewolf blood. At least I hoped it was werewolf blood.  
  
Without a pause, the girl jumped down, sending me forward on the minion she’d been riding. She walked towards the van, and gave me a good view of just what exactly she’d done to the Blue Beetle.  
  
Panels, axles and engines twisted around on themselves, the metal of the van creaking with a horrible noise.  
  
The Loup-Garou, recognizing the sound, jumped up, and I saw it dash towards the girl. It was covered in a mixture of blood and foam, but completely unbothered by it.  
  
And in about three seconds, It would rip out the throat of the girl that was helping me find Parian.  
  
I have this old-fashioned thing about women. I’m kind of a chivalrous guy. Sure, you might think me old-fashioned, what with people like Alexandria and Revel constantly in the limelight, but it’s just me.  
  
And if there’s anything I hate more than I hate people who go after women, It’s people who go after little girls, even if the girl in question managed to completely destroy my car for no reason at all.”  
  
I gathered my will, drawing in energy from my surroundings, and channelled it through my blasting rod, a device specialized in helping me control fire magic.  
  
Not that I needed any control right now, I just needed power, a lot of power.  
  
“ _Pyrofuego”_ I yelled, unleashing a devastatingly large fireball from the tip of my blasting rod. It was almost like a spear, only larger, and the flame was blue and white, rather than the average red-yellowish fire. Heh, white-ish stuff coming from my rod, almost as good as containment foam.  
  
The column of flame flew through the air, and smashed straight into the Loup-Garou, sending it flying, and setting it on fire. When it landed, I could see its fur burn in a bright blaze, the regenerating hairs only serving to further fuel the fire. It wouldn’t last, almost nothing would last against this thing, but it would buy the girl whose cape name I still didn’t know some time.  
  
As my steed turned a corner, it slowed down, slowly falling outside of her control, its movements becoming simpler. I jumped off, and ran in the direction in which I thought Parian had been. Shuffle’s power was useful in restructuring the battlefield, but it made it rather difficult to keep your bearings in a place like this. The only fixtures were the moon, and Revel’s position in the sky, throwing balls of hurt at the Loup-Garou. From the way she was spacing them out though, it seemed like she was running low on her reserves of energy.  
  
After a minute or two of searching for Parian, I suddenly decided to stop being an idiot. Instead of running through the broken, hilly terrain like a madman, I climbed up on a rock, and looked around for Campanile, who had been in charge of the hostages.  
  
Of course, that had been at the beginning of the chaotic fight. Right now, I saw him fighting the Loup-Garou, using the barely recognizeable cement-mixer as a bludgeon in order to give him extra range.  
  
All things considered, close quarters combat is dangerous, especially for brutes. You’d think the opposite was true, and it is, but that wasn’t the point I was trying to make.  
  
The point is, a brute is supposed to get in there, and fight the enemy with overwhelming force and resilience.  
  
Against most people, that means you overpower them instantly, doesn’t matter if you’re a twenty-feet tall Campanile or a sky-scraper lifting Alexandria. Doesn’t matter if you’re twenty time as strong, or a hundred. You’re not going to lose that fight. Against another brute though, you tend to be completely at the mercy of your respective powers. If your enemy happens to be stronger by an order of magnitude, you’re completely fucked, no doubts about it.  
  
In this case, it seemed like the Loup-Garou was the one that was having intercourse, thanks to Campanile’s ridiculous reach. Whenever the Loup-Garou attacked, he simply took a large step back, attacking again the moment it stopped moving.  
  
Problem was, strength and reach weren’t the only factors in such a fight. Right here, it was resilience, stamina and regeneration that would prove conclusive.  
  
Sure, Campanile could keep the beast at bay for a couple of minutes, but he was still a person, and would quickly tire, while the Loup-Garou wouldn’t.  
  
“He is going to kill them,” a voice said.  
  
I turned, and was that it was Tera West, standing right next to me. I hadn’t heard her approach, hadn’t even heard her breathe before she’d said something.  
  
While my eyes were busy inspecting her rather naked body for possible wounds, (I promise I only looked as much as was strictly necessary to make sure she was okay) she started speaking again.  
  
“He was always worried this would happen. That he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. The beast, it is everything he is not. Angry, vengeful and out of control.”  
  
“Vengeful… that’s why he went after the girl,” I said.  
  
“A stupid child playing stupid games. She heard rumours about things being afoot at his manor during the full moon, and she wanted to explore, like you humans are wont to. She found him, transformed but sealed in his circle, and she panicked, freeing him in her foolishness. She managed to fight him off until moonset, but only barely. When he returned to her senses, he forgave her, thanked her for making sure he didn’t hurt anyone, while all I wanted to do was to rip her throat out.  
  
“You humans, most of you are horrible, worse than the animals whose superiors you claim to be. Then, there are people like my beloved, who are better than I could ever be.”  
  
“And now, he’s stuck like this, fighting us,” I said.  
  
“You should know, wizard, that I am helping you because he would not want to harm anyone. If you harm him, I will have my revenge,” she said, calm and collected as if she hadn’t just threatened to rip our collective oesophagi out. I was pretty sure that, if I had an ex-wife, I would’ve made some kind of twisted comparison here.  
  
“Well, I’m trying to stop that from happening, but I’ll need Parian to do that. Do you know where she is?” I asked.  
  
“Lady Sabah? Yes, the giant carried her away before he went to fight,” she responded, before shifting to a wolf again.  
  
I was about to hurry after her, when I heard a blood-curdling scream in the distance. I looked again, and saw that what I’d feared had happened. Campanile had gotten tired, and made a mistake, and now the Loup-Garou was wrapped around one of his arms, biting down.  
  
There was little I could do, it was out of range for an easy hit, and I’d probably hit Campanile as well if I threw something at it.  
  
Revel, however, was still soaring above the battlefield, periodically throwing around balls of force.  
  
I looked at my right hand, and the ring I was wearing on it. The ring was made out of three rings of an Iridium/Rhodium alloy, created by a tinker to hold large amounts of energy. The alloy had been designed for some sort of interdimensional tinker-tech bullshit, but that property had carried over for magical work, and I’d used my Protectorate contacts to get a fair amount of it.  
  
The design was based on an earlier device I’d created, a small ring that would save up a little bit of energy each time I swung my arm around, and release that all at once. This one, however, got its kinetic force from a little doohickey Tecton had made for me after I’d explained the principle, and it was a lot more powerful than my earlier work.  
  
I aimed it at the point of light in the sky that was Revel’s lantern, gathered my will, and released the energy, pounding an enormous blast of force straight into her weapon.  
  
Revel, used to my hijinks by now, didn’t even act surprised when her weapon was suddenly overcharged with energy again. Instead, she simply looked at me, spotting the wolf right next to me, and gave me a nod while she flew towards Campanile and the beast, unleashing a vast array of glowing orbs in the process of flying there.  
  
“Let’s get going,” I said, and Tera started running, following her nose, while Campanile was screaming in the background.  
  
There was nothing I could do, I told myself. I wouldn’t be able to reach him in time, and my time was better spent creating a containment plan.  
  
I wasn’t sure how long I spent rushing after Tera in the near darkness, my path lit only by the faint glow of my amulet, the one I’d inherited from my mother, and which was now available in tacky tourist stores all across the city.  
  
It was also, of course, made out of silver. Inherited silver. The one weakness that a Loup-Garou had.  
  
Sometimes I was such a fucking idiot.  
  
Eventually, we came upon an impromptu medical outpost, containing the hostages, as well as an unconscious Shuffle and three bleeding troopers, and one guy playing medic.  
  
“Where’s Parian?” I asked, and the sole capable PRT trooper left pointed at one of the bundles lying on the floor.  
  
As I came closer, I recognized Parian’s Middle Eastern features. She was sleeping, probably still out from the drugs the Hexenwolves used on her.  
  
I then did what all good wizards did in such a situation. I grabbed a little vial of smelling salts from my utility pouch, and held it in front of her nose, because mind-affecting magic is a no-no. Really I’m serious, it’s against the laws of magic because it tends to twist the mind of the victim, their subconscious fighting against the changes you made. That was why I couldn’t help people with the binding. The parasites interact with brains, and therefore the mind. The whole binding was based upon subtle differences between the brain, as in the chemical machine in your head, and your metaphysical mind.  
  
Using some sort of love spell on someone, for example, would lead to them hating and loving someone at the same time, eventually ending in someone’s psyche tearing itself apart, probably.  
  
In this case, well, maybe her subconscious would tell her she was still sleepy or something. But hey, it’s a slippery slope, and the laws of magic mean that you’ll be executed by the council the moment you set a single step over that line.  
  
So I just used the natural equivalent, found in a small vial with stinky gasses, a quick slap to the face, and a thermos of cold water applied directly to the face.  
  
She woke up, and was obviously confused as to the situation, and wondering why her shirt was wet.  
  
So a little bit of water had slipped from her face to her shirt, sue me, the layers of clothes she was wearing meant I couldn’t see anything anyways.  
  
“What… where… what happened?” she asked, obviously still tired.  
  
“Long story short? You got kidnapped by transforming FBI agents, and now there’s a rampaging Loup-Garou running around slaughtering its way through my teammates. I need you to grab some string and make a circle around it, so that we can empower it and keep it sealed.”  
  
Parian looked at me, her mouth gaping open, before nodding, standing up, and removing a long string from her skirt with her power. “Will this do? I mean, I’ve never tried it before, but I think the principle is sound. You’re the wizard here anyway,” she said, her voice not entirely confident, but not trembling too much either.  
  
“I think it will, or at least, I can’t figure out a reason why it wouldn’t, so let’s go!” I said to both the wet and tired Parian and the naked wolf. Although, now that I thought about it, most wolves are naked.  
  
We made our way towards the fighting sounds, while I explained my circle plan. In the distance, the sounds of Revel’s orbs were joined by grenades and gunfire. Apparently, Marcone’s men had gotten involved.  
  
As we reached the fight, a bloody scene was unfolding.  
  
Most obvious was Campanile’s arm, lying on the ground, twenty feet long and several across, it was mauled all over by the Loup-Garou. Somehow, it had gotten lopped off in the fight, and wasn’t returning to normal size.  
  
The rest of his body, however, was normal sized, -still big mind you, but normal for Campanile-, lying on the ground nearby with a PRT trooper working on the bloody stump.  
  
Behind that, I saw smoke grenades, concussive grenades, incendiary grenades, and a couple of other things flying to the air, as well as a whole lot of gunfire coming from Marcone’s mansion.  
  
In the distance, I could see Snaptrap’s power, flinging grenades forward. I idly wondered if Revel was still angry at him for failing to live up to his self-imposed expectations. Probably. Revel could be a hard-ass and Snaptrap was kind of a dick.  
  
The Loup-Garou, driven towards the mansion by Revel’s attacks, was busy smashing its way through walls, destroying the structural integrity of the building and munching on cheap henchmen.  
  
“Hey, Lard-ass!” I yelled, before following up with a “ _Fuego!”_ and a fireball.  
  
The Loup-Garou, its mouth red with blood that, this time, I was quite sure was not his.  
  
“Sup,” I waved at it.  
  
“Growl,” it replied. It was obviously very good at small talk.  
  
 _Hyper mega circle telekinesis attack!_ Parian said, or at least, she said so in my mind. In reality, she just hid behind a werewolf-person-thing while doing her power thing, stealthily moving a long piece of string in a circle around the Loup-Garou.  
  
As the circle was completed, I gathered my will, and focussed it on the circle. Then, I poured energy into it, imagining a wall going up at the edge of the circle, and creating a barrier around the beast.  
  
This time, the barrier didn’t stop the energy that turned the man into the beast. Instead, it just stopped it from leaving.  
  
It dashed forwards at me, angry at my fireball, and crashed against a supernatural wall.  
  
It was sealed, and wouldn’t be able to break its way through the circle. At least, that had been the idea.  
  
The Loup-Garou however, didn’t quite agree with the fact that I’d just beaten it, and while I pumped more energy into the circle, it smashed itself against the invisible walls around it, trying to break out.  
  
“Good thinking Myrddin,” Revel said, landing beside me. “You think it will hold?”  
  
“I sure hope so,” I replied, keeping the circle clear in my mind.  
  
Sure, technically speaking, the circle is mostly a prop. Any circle will do, if given enough energy to hold its integrity. The thing is, the really fancy ones are a lot more reliable, and a piece of Parian-controlled string was not the kind of triple binding I’d prefer to have in a situation like this.  
  
‘So, what now? Any ideas?” Revel asked.  
  
“Wait until moonset? I don’t think we’re going to get through its regeneration, and the foam didn’t seem to work,” I replied.  
  
“Nothing else? None of that arcane advice of yours?” she asked sardonically. After all, she thought that my advice working just meant that my powers worked in mysterious ways, making enemies weak to something just because I thought they should be weak to it.  
  
“Inherited silver should do the job, but…” I replied  
  
“Growl,” Tera added in, still in her wolf-form.  
  
Revel just looked at the woman, before looking at my amulet.  
  
“Didn’t you say you got that from your mother?” she asked. This elicited another angry growl from Tera.  
  
“Look boss, I respect you, but I’m not going to-“  
  
My little speech was cut off by a roar from the Loup-Garou, who had just smashed through my barrier after a moment of inattentiveness on my part.  
  
It was loose again, and it was coming for me this time.  
  
I readied my blasting wand, trying desperately to figure out some way to use fire magic to get rid of this thing, but Revel was faster than me, and she grabbed at my amulet, tearing it from my neck.  
  
Then, she threw it into the air between her and the rampaging Loup-Garou, ready to launch it forwards with one of her orbs.  
  
Tera, having almost immediately shifted to human form, jumped forwards, trying to catch the amulet out of the air before Revel could launch it forwards.  
  
She wasn’t fast enough, and an orb of force flew forwards from Revel’s lantern, straight at the amulet, and the Loup-Garou behind it.  
  
“Noooo-“ Tera screamed with the kind of wail you expected from widows in war documentaries. I guess she was about to be one.  
  
The orb hit the amulet, and all of the force was expended, launching the amulet forwards at ridiculous speeds, straight at the heart of the Loup-Garou.  
  
Something roared at the barriers in my mind, and I was floating through a void, side by side with something else, extending and converging at the same time, scanning and travelling. My mind’s eye was set on a ball of rock, at once barren and chemical, but also green and blue. It was empty and filled, beautiful and horrible, filled with potential. Then, it started to solidify, becoming one instance of itself, instead of a multitude of possibilities.  
  
I thought of my partner.  
  
 _ **“UNKNOWN”**_  
  
 _I signalled at it._  
  
 _ **“CURIOUS”**_  
  
 _It replied, although the word itself did not really cover the meaning of the word._  
  
 _Our multitudes made its way towards the specific instance, readying plans, dividing ourselves into shards, spreading around for more information from the cycle. Plans were formed. The other would focus on the new phenomenon that had been detected, while our collective would do as we normally did._  
  
 _Something went wrong, and the partner crashed into a wall between dimensions, partially crushed, paralyzed, hurt. It was too late to help. Too late._  
  
The amulet flew forwards slowly, and it was like every second took an hour.  
  
No, in retrospect, every second only took like a minute or so.  
  
I felt my heart beat, slowly but surely, and tried to move, but my body wouldn’t react. Or rather, it reacted slowly, very slowly.  
  
I saw my amulet, sent spinning by Revel, moving in slow motion towards the Loup-Garou’s heart.  
  
Towards Tera’s fiancé’s heart.  
  
Everything moved in slow motion, except for the amulet, which moved at reasonable speeds. Slower than a run, faster than walking.  
  
Something was fucking with time, and from the vision I’d just had, I was pretty sure it was a parahuman. A new one.  
  
I looked around, trying to figure out who had triggered. One of the troopers? One of Marcone’s men, or, god-forbid, Marcone himself? Was it a second trigger for Revel? Or maybe for Campanile.  
  
Then, I tried to slap myself, although my arm moved at an agonizingly slow pace.  
  
West, whatever she was, had apparently counted as human enough, at least for the entity that had decided to find some living accommodations in her brain.  
  
Now, to figure out what kind of power it was.  
  
Also, to save MacFinn’s life.  
  
I readied my will, using my shield bracelet as a focus. It was made to protect me from incoming forces, but I could improvise. After all, I had all the time I needed, whatever kind of temporal effect Tera had created, it obviously didn’t affect my mind.  
  
I gathered my will, channelling the energy through my shield bracelet, and send it after the amulet, placing a shield just in front of it.  
  
“ _Riffle-“_ I was about to say, only to find that my tongue was responding very slowly.  
  
Of course, my mind was normal, my mouth was not.  
  
I tried again, this time without verbal components, as the amulet moved ever closer to the Loup-Garou.  
  
This time, I didn’t go for the perfect shield, I just went for good enough. I placed the shield diagonally, deflecting the amulet, but not stopping it entirely.  
  
The amulet hit, and was deflected by the shield, moving slightly downwards, aimed towards the beast’s legs.  
  
Happy that I’d managed to work out that one, I tried to take a deep breath of relieve, only to find out that my body was, once again, moving too slowly.  
  
This was going to get annoying real fast, I thought.  
  
The amulet struck, hitting the beast in the right leg, and time resumed at its normal pace again.  
  
As the beast roared out in pain, it’s paws went to its leg, nursing the first wound that had really hurt it.  
  
Revel, not wasting a moment, took the opportunity to strike out with several more of her orbs, smashing the shocked beast to the ground while some of Marcone’s men resumed firing at it uselessly.  
  
Behind us, I heard a couple of footsteps. I turned around, and spotted Snaptrap, who was running over to us, not wanting to miss the fight and the glory.  
  
“The fuck happened? You all went real slow for a couple minutes there,” he said.  
  
I went over the sentence, and over the implications.  
  
The effect was localized, affecting everything but our minds. In addition to that, it was a real effect, not a simulation created by giving everyone some sort of Thinker power.  
  
Of course, in a fight, you still moved at normal velocities, and your enemies would also have extra thinking time, so it was of limited usefulness.  
  
Unless your enemy was dependent on the full moon, a full moon that was, of course, located far outside of Tera’s area of effect.  
  
“West! The moon doesn’t slow down, use your ability again!” I yelled out.  
  
I was barely done yelling when the effect hit again, slowing everything down to a crawl.  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
The rest of the night was both boring, tiring, and fascinating.  
  
Bullets flying at about a hundredth of their normal speeds were kind of beautiful, like when you’re looking at those slow-motion camera videos. After seeing a thousand of them though, it gets kind of boring.  
  
The Loup-Garou, slowed just as much as we were, tried to put up a fight. But, with the feral killer instincts that the transformation gave to MacFinn, he’d lost his capacity for planning and rational thought. Given time to plan, to look what others were doing and work in tandem with them, we were easily able to hold him off.  
  
Every fifteen minutes or so, Tera would drop the effect, taking a quick breather, before putting it up again. She looked exhausted and confused, but she had an amazing level of mental fortitude.  
  
The worst part of it was that, while my body was slowed down, my mind was growing tired, and I couldn’t exactly go and get some coffee. Which meant I’d need to prepare some sort of coffee dimension, just in case I’d fight side by side with Tera like this again.  
  
After quite a few hours – you never realize how long the moon is up until you have to wait through it- The moon went down, and MacFinn started transforming again, this time back to human. 100% completely naked human, because that was just the day I was having.  
  
Seeing him, alive and well, except for the gaping wound in his foot, a naked Tera West ran forwards, jumping straight into the arms of her beloved.  
  
Hugging each other, the man kissed her, and she kissed him back. The naked couple completely forgetting about the assembled superheroes, the manor house filled with gangsters, the promptly redesigned golf-course, courtesy of Shuffle Inc. or the array of completely ruined cars, courtesy of a girl whose name I still didn’t know, and who was conspicuously absent from the scene of the crime.  
  
I’d catch her someday, and I’d make her repair my car, or buy me a new one, or whatever creative punishment I’d thought of by that time. For now, I was just happy that things seemed to be relatively okay here.  
  
In the distance, I saw several of the Wards approach, followed by director Heathrow and several more PRT troopers. The director had a talk, first with Revel, then with MacFinn, and with Marcone after that. The troopers went for the Hexenwolves, who apparently were still covered under a thick layer of foam.  
  
The Wards, or rather, Tecton, Wanton and Grace, told me that one of the Hexenwolves had tried to take out Taylor back at HQ, and Tecton told me that a freak electrical blowout had disabled all the unshielded electronics in the building. From the way he said the word shielded, I thought there had to be more to it, like he didn’t just mean EMP shielding.  
  
Wanton started asking questions, wanting to know how I’d used my ‘magic’ to take down the baddies, but I told him I wanted to get a couple of hours of sleep in first. I’d figure out what to do after I’d rested a bit.  
  
Grace… Grace had wanted to say something about Cuff, but then seen the naked kissing couple. I managed to use one of my wizardly powers (it’s this new thing called a ridiculously billowy robe,) to block her vision, and asked them to escort me back to one the vans, were I plonked down, too tired to think, after doing almost nothing but thinking for about eight hours straight.


	14. Epilogue

**First class**  
*Dresden*  
  
I lit another candle, and placed it with the rest on the nightstand beside Taylor’s hospital bed.  
  
“So, young grasshopper, it has come to the attention of this noble and wise wizard that you are in the possession of certain magical abilities,” I said, my eyes flitting nervously past all the expensive medical machines.  
  
Usually, I’d be far too careful to actually enter a place like this. Magic tends to wreck modern technology in its vicinity, and it was usually a bad thing to make medical equipment fail.  
  
However, someone (not me, I swear!) had managed to break just about every device in the building that relied on post second world war technology, excepting the stuff Tecton had made, which was just all kinds of bullshit.  
  
“Really? Grasshopper? Can’t think of anything better?” Taylor replied.  
  
“Well, it’s either that or Padawan, and you struck me as more of a Trekkie.”  
  
At that, Lisa started making lightsaber noises. _Ffffkrrrrshhzzzwooooom..woom..woooom..pshew,_ that sort of thing. It was actually rather difficult to stop myself from joining in.  
  
“Seriously Lisa? You’re on his side?”  
  
“Not really, I mean, unless you being grasshopper means I could be the padawan?”  
  
“Ghosts can’t be padawans, I’m pretty sure.”  
  
“What about force ghosts? Like Obi-Wan?”  
  
“I think only a jedi master can become a force ghost, so they’re not padawans by definition.”  
  
“Hmmm… You have a point, and I don’t know enough about the Expanded Universe to prove you wrong. I’ll get back to you once I’ve read all the books,” Lisa said.  
  
“Just so you know, the prequels don’t count,” I said, getting the last word in.  
  
“So, what now?” Taylor asked.  
  
“There’s two things we need to do now. First of all, we need to get you set up with a teacher. Then, we need to bind your space parasite, get you some more control over those powers of yours. Also, we need to figure out how to stop you from from accidentally hexing large buildings.”  
  
“Hexing, that’s the part where none of the lights are working, right?”  
  
“Or the computers, the phones, the water heater, that sort of thing. There’s a reason I live the way I do, and it’s only partially because I really hate moving. Anyway, I think that what’s happened is that you somehow hexed stuff through your bugs, instead of in a general area around you, so the binding will hopefully remove the part where everything breaks, and limit it to just the stuff you’re using.”  
  
“So, do we do that, like, right now?”  
  
“As soon as possible, but it’s rather complicated. I can call some people in to assist you, but it’ll take about a week until you know enough of the basics to be the one in charge of the ritual.”  
  
“So, we talked about it before, but why can’t you just cast it on me or something?”  
  
“The laws of magic. They’re strict, they’re important, and you can’t break them.  
  
“The thing about them though, is that there’s more to them than you might think on the surface. The laws aren’t just there to stop you from doing bad things with magic, they are there because breaking them has consequences for the user. Magic is the essence of life and creation, generated by living things, and by human emotions. To then turn and use that energy for dark things, it twists the mind of the user.  
  
“The first law is easy, thou shall not kill by use of magic. You can fight people, you can hurt them, you can disable them, but if you kill them, if you snuff out their life using a force for life, it twists something in you.  
  
“There’s more to it, for example, most of the laws only apply to humans, mortals, not to things like vampires, demons or faeries, but that’s the general gist of it.” I said.  
  
“So, this is like, an actual effect? Not just some sort of propaganda to stop people from becoming murderers?” Taylor asked.  
  
“Yes, this makes the distinction between killing with magic and killing in general so important. The White Council’s resources are not infinite, and they can’t stop everyone from doing bad stuff, there’d be too many problems with it. I mean, when is murder murder? What about when there’s a war?”  
  
“So, instead of politicizing stuff, they just get a really exploitable law instead? I mean, you can use magic every step of the way but the last, and somehow that’s okay?” Lisa said.  
  
“That’s correct, and not as exploitable as you think. Remember, the goal is not to stop people from murdering each other; the goal is to stop people from turning into dangerous warlocks. That’s when the Wardens come after you.”  
  
“The Wardens?” Taylor asked.  
  
“Supernatural wizard police, grey cloaks and swords, very capable combatants and generally a bit overzealous, but you shouldn’t get into any trouble with them as long as you respect the laws.”  
  
“Are you a Warden then?”  
  
“Nope, I’m just your average wizard playing superhero.”  
  
“To get back to the point, the second law forbids the transformation of others, forcibly putting their mind in a body that was never designed for it. The reasoning behind it quickly becomes clear if you look at people like the hexenwolves, their minds corrupted by their magic belts.”  
  
“So, if you turn someone into a frog?” Lisa said.  
  
“Then their mind starts turning into that of a frog.”  
  
“Awwwww,” she moaned, obviously disappointed in the lack of frogification in her future. I had to admit I agreed with her, it was too bad that I would never be able to turn my boss into the cutest little amphibian without turning to the dark side.  
  
“The third and fourth are related, and are the ones at play here. It is forbidden to invade the mind of another, as well as to enthrall them. Here too, the corruption of the self is at play. And the problem here, is that no matter how good your intentions, twisting someone else’s mind will never end well. The subconscious simply won’t accept the changes wrought upon the psyche, and you’d be torn apart by internal conflicts.”  
  
“Which is why you can’t cast your binding thing on other people,” Taylor said.  
  
“Yeah, well, I’m not buying it,” Lisa said.  
  
“Why not? Trust me, I’m not any happier with it than you are.”  
  
“The whole mind-control thing? it leading to subconscious blabla? Bullshit. I’m pretty sure people like Heartbreaker completely fuck around with people, both consciously and subconsciously. There’s no comic-bookie bullshit where the power of friendship allows you to subconsciously resist mind-control or anything like that, that’s not how it works with the stronger powers,” she replied.  
  
“You’ve got a point there. But once again, think about what you’re talking about. The laws are magical laws, to do with the practice of magic, and while some of the principles behind them should carry over to parahuman abilities, they somehow don’t, which is weird.  
  
“Or, in other words: No, I don’t know why either, something’s wrong there, but without testing, I don’t know what. Also, not going to test that shit for obvious reasons,” I replied.  
  
It bothered me, now that I thought about it. If someone like Heartbreaker used his powers on you, how did that work? Did he influence the body? Was it just the brain, or did the mind itself play a role? Perhaps even the soul? I’d never encountered a power that interfaced with the mind, and PRT doctrine held that psychic powers were obviously impossible. Then again, the Simmurgh was a thing. Except the council and most of the magical groups that had joined forces to oppose the endbringers had deduced that she worked through the prediction of causality, not psychic assaults or actually messing with the timeline. Perhaps I’d have to ask someone else, with more experience in that sort of thing. I had to admit, Tattletale’s insights could be remarkably helpful in understanding parahuman abilities and interactions.  
  
“The fifth law forbids reaching beyond the borders of life, better known as necromancy. I don’t think I need to explain that one, but let’s just say creating undead is almost always a bad idea, it’s what creates stuff like the black vampire court.”  
  
“Black vampire court?”  
  
“Walking corpses with all of the abilities outlined in Stoker’s novels. It’s not a race thing.”  
  
“So, the guy that attacked me?”  
  
“Red court. Bloodsucking beasts that hide in human skins. There’s also the White Court, which again, is not a race thing, which are the most human, and are basically succubi, feeding on human emotions like lust.”  
  
“So, sexy vampires? You’re telling me those shitty movies are real?”  
  
“Sort of, sadly. There’s a few different kind of White’s though, including variants that feed on fear and despair.”  
  
“Ahhh, like the emotions you feel from watching those movies! It all fits together now!” Lisa yelled out.  
  
“The sixth, sadly, means that time-travel is outlawed. No Deloreans, no Time Turners, no Terminators.”  
  
“So, we’re not going to kill Hitler?” Lisa asked.  
  
“Nope, not unless we want to break the universe.”  
  
“Awwww…”  
  
“That’s what I said!”  
  
“Oh well, there’s always Mecha-Hitler. You’re in the Protectorate, so you know Dragon right? Do you think we should ask her directly, or should we just post a topic on PHO to put the idea out there?”  
  
“I’m not sure. I mean, my magic kind of interferes with all of her tech. You should probably ask Tecton instead. He actually talks to her every now and then.”  
  
“Right, ask Tecton for Mecha-Hitler, got it."  
  
“As for the seventh and last law, you’ll be informed about it at the end of your apprenticeship, and it won’t come up before that point,” I finished my explanation.  
  
“So, just to make sure I get this thing right, you’re saying these laws aren’t just moral things, they’re, like, built into the fabric of the whole magic thing?” Lisa asked.  
  
“Yes,” I replied.  
  
“Wow, that’s…” Lisa trailed off, her shiny blue LED’s suddenly gaining a greenish tint.  
  
“Are you certain?” she asked, her voice weird, completely different yet almost the same.  
  
I looked at Taylor, who looked just as shocked as I was.  
  
“Yes, I am,” I replied.  
  
“I’ll have to think about that for a while,” the voice said.  
  
Almost immediately, the flying doohickey became blue again, and landed on the hospital bed, in Taylor’s lap, resting there like a cat. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought that it meant Lisa was tired.  
  
“Well, that was weird,” Lisa said.  
  
“I have to agree,” I replied.  
  
“I think… I think that was my, you know, my brain Pokémon speaking,” Lisa said. “Weird, I mean, she’s been talking in the back of my mind for more than a year now, but she’s never come out like that. Also, it’s quiet now… weird.”  
  
“It’s… something to think about. Anyway, about that teaching thing we were talking about. I could do it, help you out, teach you what you need to know. I’ll have to warn you though, it’s not something I’ve ever done before, and I can’t promise you I’ll be any good at teaching. Plus, you’ll have to deal with a jealous Wanton, which is, and this may sound impossible, even more annoying than a happy Wanton. I can also get you set up with someone else. I’ve got some connections on the council, older, more experienced wizards that actually know what they’re doing. Then again, they won’t have any experience dealing with the parahuman side of things.”  
  
“If I asked you to teach me, would you tell me to join the wards?” Taylor asked.  
  
“No, I won’t, and it’s probably a bad idea anyway. I’d tutor you in my hours off from the job, I can easily sell it to Revel as keeping an eye on you, making sure you don’t go off into the deep end again. The thing is, I can’t keep pretending I’m just a zany parahuman if it’s actually important that you learn something.”  
  
“In that case, I guess I’d like for you to teach me magic,” she said.  
  
“Good, now let me tell you about the shitty dress code. Or as I like to call it, the Dresdencode.”  
  
“Does it include wizard robes?”  
  
“Sadly yes.”

  
**The internet**  
*Livsey*  
  
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 **Private message from Cuff:**  
  
 **Cuff:** Hey, saw you had an account on here. Do you know if Skitter has one? I wanted to ask her something but couldn't find her.  
  
 **Tattletale:** Pretty sure she doesn't have a dedicated account, besides a throwaway from back in the day. On a completely different topic, do you think you could convince Tecton to get me a wifi thingy?  
  
 **Cuff:** I guess I could ask him, but, only if you convince Skitter to get an account. I've got some pictures I want her opinion on.  
  
 **Tattletale:** Is it teenage Stalin? It is, right? I mean, it's always teenage Stalin.  
  
 **Cuff:** No, it's not a picture of a sexy dictator. In fact, it has nothing to do with that.  
  
 **Tattletale:** You had my curiosity, but now you have my attention.  
  
 **Cuff:** I'm not telling you anything until you make Taylor get an account. Also, how are you even on the internet with your body?  
  
 **Tattletale:** I'm bribing a teenager with superpowered dating tips. Also, you should totally give him your phone number, no wait I never said that don't write that down!  
  


■ **Topic: Big Wards fight downtown!**

**In: Boards ► Places ► America ► Midwest ► Chicago**

**Brocktonite03** (Original Poster) (Veteran Member) (Brockton Bay Survivor)  
Posted on May 24, 2011:  
So apparently, the Chicago Wards are having a big throwdown with Skitter, a supervillain refugee from Brockton Bay that used to be part of a minor gang called the Undersiders. The last week or so, there's been speculation that she was active in town as a vigilante, but apparently the PRT doesn't agree with that. (To be fair, neither do I, I've seen her at work, and she took one of my friends hostage with her bugs)  
People are livestreaming **HERE** , **HERE** and **HERE**.  
Edit: Apprently, it was a set-up, stay tuned for more information  
Edit2: So, something about a Hexenwolf, whatever that may be. Is this related to the LOBO Murders?

**(Showing Page 1 of 20)**

**► Eins**  
Replied on May 24, 2011:  
So I just looked out of the window and saw this thing. Massive swarm of bugs, just like last night on the campus. Is this normal now?

**► TimeCrow**

Replied on May 24, 2011:  
I have to say, if this keeps up, I might think about moving. Fuck spiders.

**► Penguin Horde** (Unverified Cape)  
Replied on May 24, 2011:I have to admit, this girl definitely knows how to grab attention. Saw like five different news channels covering it. Wondering why she's not taking the onlookers hostage though.

**► Kung_Fu_Fisting** (Cape Groupie)  
Replied on May 24, 2011:  
Did that bitch just send her bugs after mah waifu? fuck this shit man, not okay!  


**End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 18 , 19, 20**   
  
**(Showing Page 12 of 20)**

  
**► Cuff** (Verified Cape) (Chicago Wards)  
Replied on May 24, 2011:  
Hey everyone, Cuff here. It'll be in the news later, but just posting to let everyone know we weren't really fighting with Skitter.  
A few days ago, she got some info on some bad guys that try to operate in the shadows, We knew they'd try to go after her if they could, so we staged a public fight, and the guys in the Protectorate took them down rather quickly.

**► Tattletale** (Verified Cape) (Verified Ghost)  
Replied on May 24, 2011:  
Can confirm, we planned everything with Revel, Stuff's okay, Skitter is not a villain.

**► Bagrat** (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied on May 24, 2011:  
Werewolf murders, insect plagues, fake fights, stuff is heating up in Chicago.  
@Cuff, does this mean Skitter is going to join the wards?  
@Tattletale, Isn't it a bit disrespectful to steal the name of a dead cape so soon? Especially after an Endbringer fight.

**► Tattletale** (Verified Cape) (Verified Ghost)  
Replied on May 24, 2011:  
@ Baggy, Which is why it says Ghost you idiot. Shees, they give these guy in the know tags to everyone these days. You want to know how you really become someone in the know? Trust me, it's not by lying in your bed watching Cowboy Bebop all day, lay off the fucking Doritos (I mean, Cool Ranch? Seriously?)

**► Winged_One**  
Replied on May 24, 2011:  
Sup Tattletale, heard you've been through some interesting stuff. You mind talking about it?

**► XxVoidCowboyxX** (Brockton Bay Survivor)  
Replied on May 24, 2011:  
Whoa, Skitter's in Chicago? Damn, didn't expect that. She's really cool though, I'm happy to hear she's gonna be a hero. What she did during the fight was amazing.  
You think she's gonna join the Wards? I mean, gotta be right? Maybe Myrddin can even teach her magic.  
Kinda wish I'd gone to Chicago now, but my parents wanted to go to Philly. Are there any other B-Bay capes there? We got Miss Militia and Vista here, which is kinda cool, but not as cool as Myrddin!

**► Bagrat** (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)  
Replied on May 24, 2011:  
Ahh, voidcowboy, please never change.  
And Tattletale, whoever you might be, Not cool. Also, I resemble that remark.

**► Grace** (Verified Cape) (Chicago Wards)  
Replied on May 24, 2011:  
Actually, I can confirm that that's actually Tattletale, or as close as possible. Myrddin brought her back somehow, probably just like how Glaistig Uaine works. Anyway, she's helping out the director right now, but I'm sure she'll be able to answer everyone's questions afterwards.  
And no, Skitter probably won't be joining us. Secretly kind of happy about that, those insects scared the shit out of me even though I knew it was all pretend!  


**End of Page. 1, 2, 3 ... 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 ... 18 , 19, 20**

■ **Topic: Big Protectorate fight at Marcone’s place?  
In: Boards ► Places ► America ► Midwest ► Chicago**

**Bagrat** (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Veteran Member)

Posted on May 25, 2011:  
So two days ago we had the whole thing at the campus. Yesterday, there was apparently a mock fight between the Wards and Skitter (thread here), and now people are reporting Protectorate activity around the house of one John Marcone, a business owner and philanthropist that is often speculated to have a rather larger finger in the crime pie. People have reported gunshots, and sounds of large things crashing into each other.  
Edit: I've got sources telling me that it was apparently a ploy of some sort, perpetrated by the same people mentioned by Chicago ward Cuff in THIS post  
Edit2: So, apparently, someone spotted Campanile on a gurney, missing an arm. Hold on for further updates  
Edit3: So apparently, something big happened, because I've heard rumours that someone from the Toybox has been seen talking to one of Marcone's people (please don't kill me.) Just what happened?

**(Showing Page 17 of 42)**

  
**► Reave** (Verified PRT Agent) (Brockton Bay Survivor)  
Replied on May 25, 2011:  
Gotta say, looks a bit suspicious that Skitter is in the news twice just before something like this happens. Really don't understand why the Chicago branch decided to trust her, she's a villain, plain and simple.

**► Blasto** (Unverified Cape)  
Replied on May 25, 2011:  
Can confirm something big went on. All the little secret Tinker channels were abuzz with activity. I'm staying out of it, and advising everyone else to do the same, some of the stuff involved has rather negative mental effects.

**► Chicago_PRT_Official** (PRT Official)  
Replied on May 25, 2011:  
Hello everyone, I'm here to clear up some misconceptions. First of all, let me say that there will be a press conference tonight, dealing with the events of the last few days.

Second, after several talks with Skitter, and more information coming to light regarding the specifics of the situation in Brockton Bay with her former associates, we have decided to no longer classify her as a villain. We understand that this might be confusing, in part because her status as villain was recently used in a sting operation.  
In addition to that, it is unlikely that she will join the local Wards team, but she will be indirectly associated with the PRT.  
Third, all readers should be clear that there are multiple groups in town that are best described as 'werewolves', and that only one of these groups is villainous in nature.  
The first of these, codenamed "Hexenwolves," consisted of a group of people using a set of artefacts to transform themselves into wolf-like beasts. These artefacts have been proven to have deleterious mental effects. All individuals associated with this faction have been taken into custody, and we would like to remind eveyone to immediately bring artefacts that are obvious parahuman in nature to the PRT, instead of using them.  
The second of these groups, codenamed "The Alphas" consists of a group of people with the ability to turn themselves into wolves as well, without the use of an artefact, and without the negative side effects. This faction is associated with the PRT, and has taken up a vigilante role. They can be recognized by their costumes, which can be found in their thread HERE. The source of these abilities is not known, but it is suspected that one of their number is a cape with Trump abilities  
The third group consists of a single individual, one about which an announcement will be made later this week.  
I hope I have sufficiently informed you.

**► XBlade_OF_DarknessX**  
Replied on May 25, 2011:  
So, anyone else hear lots of howling last night? Anyone think this third werewolf has something to do with what happened at Marcone's place?

**► Brocktonite03** (Brockton Bay Survivor)  
Replied on May 25, 2011:  
@Pizzaface  
Yeah right, of course it’s a new Endbringer. Don't you think that maybe if that happened the city would've been evacuated by now?

@Voidcowboy  
Again, if you're so interested in hanging out in disaster zones, why not move to one?  
Seriously, couldn't you have found a different shelter?  
 **User has been infracted for this post**

**► WagTheDog** (Brockton Bay Survivor)  
Replied on May 25, 2011:  
Werewolves here, werewolves there, I kind of want one of those 'artefacts' now. I mean, dogs are totally awesome, who wouldn't want to be one?

**► The Alphas** (Verified Cape)  
Replied on May 25, 2011:  
Hello everyone, leader of the Alphas here. Just wanted to say thanks to the PRT real quick for their help. I didn't really look forward to people thinking we were supervillains when we're just trying to do our part.  
As for what happened last night, I wasn't there, but I heard some serious shit went down.

**► XxVoidCowboyxX** (Brockton Bay Survivor)  
Replied on May 25, 2011:  
@Brocktonite  
Well fuck you too man. Seriously.

**► Tin_Mother** (Moderator)  
Replied on May 25, 2011:  
Hey everyone, please try to keep the discussion civil. That includes speculation about whether or not public figures are secretly criminals. The topic of this threat is not whether or not Marcone is an upstanding citizen, but what happened at his estate.

**► Tattletale** (Verified Cape) (Verified Ghost)  
Replied on May 25, 2011:  
Can't help but notice that none of you idiots figured out that last night was a full moon.  
Tats out!  


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**(Showing Page 18 of 42)**

  
**► Tin_Mother** (Moderator)  
Replied on May 25, 2011:  
@Tattletale  
What did I just say about staying civil?  
Also, aren't you supposed to be dead?

**► Wanton** (Verified Cape) (Chicago Wards)  
Replied on May 25, 2011:  
@WagTheDog  
Trust me, you don't want to mess with Black Magic like that. I know it's seductive, but the price is too high to pay.

@ Tin_mother  
The Mighty Myrrdin brought her back from beyond the veil to serve as his personal assistant and annoy Revel.  
Mostly to annoy Revel.  


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****

**The garage**  
*Dresden*  
  
“Your car’s ready, you can come pick it up,” was the only thing Mike had said when he called me.  
  
It was obviously a trap. The Blue beetle had been completely totalled by, as director Heathrow would say, “A parahuman with a power that looks suspiciously similar to, but cannot be proven to be, Mockshow.”  
  
Somehow, the little twat had gotten herself some _‘connections’_ , and now I couldn’t take revenge for my car.  
  
I’d get her one of these days, and I’d get her in a way that was perfectly deniable. Maybe I could soak her in holy water and say I was checking for vampires, or figure out some way to hex her shoelaces together.  
  
Yes, I can be pretty vindictive when it comes to my car.  
  
Anyway, even though it was obviously a trap, I still had to go and figure out if my car was alright. It had gone through a lot of craziness in the years it had been me, and although figuring out if it was still the original was an actual philosophical conundrum, I loved it nonetheless.  
  
All of this meant that, when I stepped into Mike’s garage, I had blasting rod ready on one side of my belt, and an improvised extra-long extendable baton I could use for my parahuman ability on the other side of the belt. I’d gotten the idea from Taylor’s utility compartment, and it would have to do until I could make a new implement.  
  
The garage itself looked much like it always did. Grimy, but not too grimy. A mess, but just barely OSHA compliant. Busy, but not so busy that Mike couldn’t greet me the moment I stepped in.  
  
“If it isn’t my most-returning client,” he said, alluding to the many, many times that I’d come here to get the Beetle repaired.  
  
“I have to say Mike, I know you’re a miracle worker, but I didn’t you to actually be able to solve this one,” I replied, all the while checking the environment for traces of magic with my wizard senses. I didn’t find any, which meant that either there wasn’t any traps, it was a parahuman trap, or it was a magical trap that was advanced enough to elude my senses somehow.  
  
“I’m sorry Harry, I’d love to take credit, but it wasn’t me that saved your car, but my newest employee,” he replied. “She’s a real miracle worker, though she doesn’t look like it. Come on, I’ll introduce you”  
  
Before I could check for further traps, Mike grabbed me by the hand, and led me to a room in the back. When we went through the door, I expected the worst, and got something even worse.  
  
What was waiting for me there wasn’t a trap, hell’s bells, it wasn’t even anything nefarious.  
  
A woman, for lack of a better term, was working on a cement mixing truck, one that, at least from the damage to it, had been the exact truck that had first been used as a minion, and then as an impromptu bludgeoning implement, during the fight with the Loup-Garou.  
  
The woman herself had long dirty blonde hair, in the sense that it was both that colour and incredibly dirty, very few teeth, and an outfit that barely covered anything yet was still somehow stained with grease everywhere. The less said about her face, or rather, her teeth, the better. Not only that, she was incredibly thin, and looked like, well, like a recovering drug addict.  
  
“Sherrel, the guy from the Volkswagen is here,” Mike said, leaving me alone with the woman that currently had a wrench in her right hand, a hammer in the left, and a blowtorch between her few remaining teeth. The blowtorch was on, and she was actively using it, somehow coordinating her work.  
  
After a couple of seconds, she looked up from her project, a metal pancake that she was somehow folding back into an engine block.  
  
“Ah, you’re here, good,” she said, her voice as high as a chipmunk, talking way too fast.  
  
“I heard you managed to repair the Blue Beetle?” I said.  
  
“Blue Beetle, yes, good name. Good car, lots of character, it’s a warrior. I repaired it, best I could. Made a few mistakes though.don’t think you’ll mind,” she said in short, quick sentences.  
  
“When you say mistakes, what exactly do you mean?” I asked. I knew it had been too much to hope for to get my trusty car back.  
  
She looked me over, glancing between the amulet, the enchanted duster (she probably didn’t know it was enchanted, probably), and the blasting rod. Let no-one ever say that my civilian identity isn’t airtight.  
  
“You’re the wizard, yes? Guy with the robes and the staff? Local hero?”  
  
I nodded, not liking where this conversation was going.  
  
“Before I give you your car back, I need a promise.”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“That bitch, the pretty one? The vampire? I want you to promise to me to fuck her up.”  
  
“Look, I’ll fight her whenever I can, but I can’t promise to go outside the law. I don’t know what your beef with her is but-“  
  
“That lying mutated whoring skank stole my fucking Skidsy!” she suddenly yelled. “With all her magic tits and her whores and her bullshit. She stole my fucking Skidsy!”  
  
Almost immediately, my mind raced back to one of the conversations I’d had with Lisa. Something about Bianca’s attempted recruiting strategy being remarkably similar to what a group from Brockton Bay used to do. A group led by a guy that actually called himself Skidmark without irony, who had been dating a vehicle tinker.  
  
Well, at least that explained how she’d repaired the Blue Beetle.  
  
“Sherrel, I promise you, I’ll try to take Bianca down to the fullest extent of the law, and give you your boyfriend back.  
  
“Bah,” she spat. “She can keep the traitorous cur, I don’t need him anymore. If anything, put him in jail, see how he does without any stuff.”  
  
“I’ll try, can’t promise too much though, Revel’s the one that’s in charge, and even she has to listen to Heathrow. Not that she does, mind you, but she technically has to.”  
  
“Pfwha, politics, come, I’ll show you your car,” she replied, leading me to the Blue Beetle.  
  
The Blue Beetle was, well, modified. It was subtle, at least for an observer, but I knew my Beetle through and through. Sherrel had given it a new paint job, keeping the old mismatched colour scheme, but making it look like it was intended to be that way, instead of just me being a cheapskate on parts.  
  
The frame was also just a little thicker, and from what I could see of the tires, they looked like they had somehow been reinforced.  
  
“Well, here it is, I’m going back to my project. Need my fixing fix,” Sherrel said. Given the abandon with which she’d apparently been working here, it seemed like she was turning to Tinkering to try and stave off her addiction.  
  
I opened the door, and saw that the keys were still in the car. As I sat down, I noticed that my old three-point belt had been replaced by what looked like a race driver’s harness or something like that. The moment my ass hit the chair, it activated, and snugly held me in place.  
  
Okay, that was weird, and hopefully not a trap.  
  
My feet found the pedals, and my hand shifted the gearbox to reverse, idly noticing that there were a few new buttons around the gearbox.  
  
As I lined up my car with the exit, I opened the window. That part hadn’t been upgraded, so I still had to turn it by hand.  
  
“What did you do to my car?” I asked.  
  
Sherrel looked up from the truck again, spitting the torch out of her mouth.  
  
“It’s a good car, warrior car. I made it more reliable. Also, I kind of zoned out for a bit a few times. That’s what the buttons are for.”  
  
“Wait, what do the buttons do?” I said, looking more closely at them. There were about a half-dozen of them, each marked with a different icon. There was a spring, a feather, two different flames, something I didn’t recognize, and a picture of what seemed to just be a circle.  
  
“Try the flame, the small one,” she replied, returning to her work.  
  
I pressed the button, and was almost instantly flung into my chair, the Blue Beetle flying forward at a breakneck pace, out of the garage, and onto the street.  
  
Okay, so that was obviously the turbo. What else had that crazy woman installed in my car?  
  
  
 ****

**A doggy dog world.**  
*Hebert*  
  
I was, once again, sitting in a small coffee shop, a book in front of me, and a cup of tea to the side.  
  
To the outside world, I was reading _fifty shades of power_ , an even shittier alternate universe spin-off of a shitty set of books from Earth Aleph.  
  
In actuality, I had hollowed it out, and placed a different volume within. Elementary magic, by one Ebenezar McCoy. It dealt with magic, moving around energy, control, and responsibility. According to Harry, it was an excellent primer that meant he could be lazy while I was reading. According to the author, Harry was an idiot, and I should trust the book whenever Harry said something that obviously contradicted it.  
  
He would know, after all, he’d been Harry’s teacher.  
  
Yesterday, Harry had dropped by in his car, which had somehow gotten repaired, and had invited me and Lisa over for a road-trip. Apparently, Squealer had gotten her grimy hands on his car, and given it some upgrades. Lisa had insisted it was probably safe, and Harry had insisted that Squealer had probably been sober while working on it, so I’d stepped in the car, and we’d done in two hours what would usually cost five. When confronted, Harry had mumbled something about how he was too fast to be bound by mortal laws, and insisted that his Protectorate card would probably get us out of any trouble.  
  
Luckily, we hadn’t gotten arrested, and we’d quickly arrived at the house of a smiling old man with a white beard and a bald head. Ebenezar McCoy at least had the decency to look like a wizard, while Harry probably couldn’t grow a beard even if he wanted to.  
  
He’d greeted Harry like an old friend, which he was, introduced himself to me and Lisa, made sure Lisa would never ever call Harry anything but Hoss, and then invited us in for the ritual.  
  
Magic rituals were a rather, well, stereotypical arrangement. Washing yourself, wearing silly robes, crazy complicated circles, that kind of thing, along with props and meditation exercises.  
  
According to Ebenezar, most of it was mental preparation, and the props were there to make the job easier. Theoretically, a skilled and experienced wizards could do all the parts of a big spell in their head, but the props helped bind certain parts of it in place, making it much easier to use the spell. Which was important, because I had been the one in charge, the two senior wizards being there simply to assist me through a little crack in the laws of magic.  
  
After all, the third and fourth law forbade psychomancy, in the sense that you weren’t allowed to play around with the mind of another. They said absolutely nothing about helping someone out when they went into their own mind, and given the influence a para could have, the council had deemed it an acceptable interpretation of the laws, even if it was slightly iffy.  
  
Then, after about three hours of chanting, handling ridiculous amounts of energy, trying to shape it into the precise way that Harry and Eeb were showing me, and then releasing it, I’d managed to grab hold of my power, and bring it under control.  
  
Which was all kinds of annoying, because it was now actually under control.  
  
I couldn’t just think and move my bugs anymore, although Harry said that that feeling would quickly go away once I got used to it. No, instead, I had to look at my binding, actively allow the parasite to act, and then guide that action through channels, mentally sealing it in such a way as to make sure I understood exactly what it was doing.  
  
It made things a bit harder, for now, but in the end, I would be able to slowly tighten the chains, so to speak, gaining ever greater control over my abilities. Already, I could neatly isolate which senses of which bugs I wanted to use, and I’d managed to figure out that my powers actually came with a multi-tasking ability, which Harry and I were slowly working on, making sure it wouldn’t have any problematic influences on my mind. Apparently, mental powers like that could be insidious, since it would be difficult to judge which parts were manipulative, and which were just part of the ability, something that was much easier when it came to controlling bugs.  
  
I turned back from my reminiscing to the chapter I was reading, dealing with moving around magical energies, and tried to think of ways I could use my bugs to help with that. I had a partial presence in each and every insect within my range, and I could practice magic through them, although it seemed like the amount of energy I could use through a single bug was limited. Still, that just meant that I needed a swarm for the larger stuff, and if anything, there were enough bugs around. Hell, I could probably just use stuff like flies and other useless bugs for magic, using the stinging and biting ones for more traditional angles of attack.  
  
And there I went again, thinking of nothing but combat. It was something Ebenezar had noted, a pattern established at the moment of triggering, rather than the more insidious effects over time. Maybe it was just the fact that powers were so good at fighting, or that the culture around it was so violent. The thing was, parahumans had a tendency to, if not necessarily be aggressive, at least think about fighting a lot. I had to admit, the man had a point. Then again, he was hundreds of years old, so he probably had a point quite often.  
  
As I reached the end of the chapter, I finished my now partially cold tea, and stood up to go for a walk, trying not to be too bothered by my broken ribs or all the receding bruises. Apparently, just lying on a bed for a couple of weeks was a bad idea, so I’d have to get a little bit of exercise in.  
  
As I moved across the sidewalk, I tried using my bugs to scout out the environment.  
  
It wasn’t as instinctive as it used to be, especially without my multitasking, but by limiting myself to controlling select bugs, I could easily create a few rudimentary patrols around me, identifying where people were walking and then putting a fly on the back of their heads, in order to keep track of them.  
  
As I was lost in my thought, almost literally, I suddenly heard heavy footsteps, and felt the pavement below me move just a bit. Panicking, I turned around, and I was confronted with something that my bugs had missed, which wouldn’t have happened if I still had normal access to my powers.  
  
Behind me, dashing towards me with wild abandon, was a wolf, or wolf-like creature. Larger than the Hexenwolves and the Werewolves had been, and about the size of a rhino.  
  
I panicked, and started calling my bugs towards me as the beast pounced, landing on top of me and pushing me to the ground.  
  
As it was lying partially on top of me, it opened its massive maw, and promptly started slobbering over my entire body with its massive tongue. Around its neck, I could see a tiny leash, more for show than to control the massive animal.  
  
“Judas, no! Bad dog, Bad Judas,” a young woman’s voice yelled out. Several seconds later, the enormous dog was lifted off of me from above by something I couldn’t see.  
  
As I was recovering from the sudden licking, a mousy-looking girl with brown hair and freckles appeared over me. I recognized her as Amy Dallon, Panacea.  
  
“I’m so sorry, he’s normally really well-behaved, I swear,” she said, while I was trying to sit up.  
  
“Here, let me help you,” she said, taking hold of my hand, and pulling me up.  
  
“Thanks,” I said as she suddenly went silent.  
  
“Sis? What’s wrong?” a voice said from above, and now I could see that it was Glory Girl that had lifted him off me.  
  
“Uhmmm, I think our trip just got a whole lot easier,” Amy replied. “It’s her.”  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
Having only just left, I found myself in the coffeeshop once again, trying to somehow dry my face off while Panacea was desperately apologizing, Glory Girl was getting drinks, and Judas was terrifying people with his sheer existence.  
  
“So, before we continue, I have to ask. Are you going to smack me in the face with a fire extinguisher again?” I asked.  
  
“Depends, are you going to rob a bank and have your girlfriend shoot me?”  
  
Sensing impending hostility, Judas made a sound, started thinking about which of us to support if it came to blows, and eventually decided to just roll over and ask us both for belly rubs. I obliged, as did Amy, and giving belly rubs at waist height was most certainly a new experience.  
  
Judas was big, about as big as he was when we used to ride him, but that’s where the comparison ended. Instead of bone and ragged muscle, he had smooth clean fur that looked to be just a tad shorter than it had been before, probably to stop him from shedding overly much. It was a cute mix of white and dark brown, one of the few remainders of his old breed. Below the skin, I could feel muscles harder than steel cables, and a slightly non-standard skeletal structure. He didn’t have any fleas I could sense, and when I landed a bug on him, I noticed some sort of natural insecticide.  
  
Apparently, Panacea could do a lot more with her power than just heal people or give them strange diseases.  
  
I looked at her with questioning eyes, asking about Judas.  
  
“After the Leviathan fight, they found him with my sister, on top of one of the surviving buildings. He’d rescued her, bringing her to high ground when she’d fallen unconscious with a nasty concussion. We were still looking for Hellhound when we found out she’d died, and Vicky demanded we take care of him.”  
  
“Explains why he’s here, not why he’s so big.”  
  
“Stuff was getting really complicated at the field hospitals outside the ruins. People wanted to go back for their stuff, villains were complaining about their medical treatment, everyone wanted me to help them, I just couldn’t find the time to treat anyone. At first, Vicky helped keep them off me, but then she started helping with the recovery effort, rescuing paintings and important documents, that kind of stuff. She can go underwater for ridiculously long times, courtesy of her power.  
  
“Anyway, I thought that, since Judas was so well-trained, I might as well use that and have him there as a bodyguard,” she explained. “I mean, he’s not exactly the same as with Hellhound, but I made him as sturdy as I could. He’s got three hearts in there, bone plates around his ribcage, enhanced muscles, a better nose, and I can heal him easily if he gets hurt, cause of all the extra biomass. He’s been a really good friend these last two weeks, and I think we’ve been helping each other with our losses. Right Judas?”  
  
At the mention of his name, Judas turned again, and left his enormous head hanging over the table we were sitting at. Apparently, the fact that he was taller than I was meant absolutely nothing to him, he still behaved just like a normal dog, only slightly more aware of his surroundings.. I gave him a quick rub on the side of his head, which he leaned into, obviously enjoying the attention, when Victoria Dallon returned with our drinks.  
  
“So, Skitter, what have you been up to?” she asked.  
  
“Y’know, the usual. Meeting the locals, fighting werewolves, almost fighting a different group of werewolves, hanging out with undead Tattletale, being assaulted in the PRT clinic, that sort of thing.”  
  
“So, you’re going straight?” she asked.  
  
“Sort of, yeah. Independent. I’ve got a deal with Revel, and she promised to stay of my back if I kept myself to her rules.”  
  
“So the movie online, that stuff was all hokum?” she asked.  
  
“Fake fight, some local villains were trying to hunt me down, and they didn’t know I had Protectorate backup, so we wanted to make it look convincing.”  
  
“So, Chicago… we just got done at the main evacuation zone. Eric and Crystal are moving to the West Coast for college, and we were trying to figure out what to do and where to go, so, what’s Chicago like?”  
  
“Chicago? It’s weird, weirder than the bay. The biggest gang is led by someone with no powers at all; there’s a group of people who are either vampires or pretending to be vampires, depending on who you ask, and their leader is dating Skidmark; I know of four different types of wolf-based changers in town; apparently Squealer is a mechanic now; there’s a girl going around turning people’s cars into mechanical minions for fun; Myrddin made Tattletale come back as a ghost and generally pulls crazy shit; Parian is providing a bunch of werewolves with clothes that don’t leave them naked when they turn back, and Fugly Bob restarted his restaurant about a week ago,” I explained.  
  
“Wait? Fugly Bob is here? Why didn’t you fucking say so? We could’ve been eating challengers instead of drinking tea!” Vicky said, way too excited about the prospect of greasy junk food. Her invulnerability probably extended to acne, that or she got her sister to help out with it. “Ames, I just decided, we’re staying here!”  
  
Amy gave her big sister an annoyed look, but didn’t even try arguing with the Fugly Bob Challenger. “Fine, I guess here’s as good as anywhere.”  
  
“In that case, welcome to Chicago,” I replied.  
  
“So, we should probably inform the PRT that we’ll be staying here huh? Meet some of the locals?” Vicky said.  
  
“Sounds like a plan, they can probably help me set up with the local hospitals and stuff. Speaking of that, couldn’t help but notice your broken ribs, you need any help with those?” Amy asked.  
  
“Not necessarily, I mean, the worst part is over. I got them from one of those werewolves I told you about. I got off lucky. Campanile, one of the guys in the local Protectorate, he lost an arm.”  
  
“Trust me, it’s more of an annoyance for you than for me, and I still feel guilty about Judas bowling you over,” Amy said.  
  
“Fine, go ahead, I mean, it’s not like I’ll miss it hurting whenever I take a deep breath.”  
  
 ****

**Moral Realism**  
Morality, a strange concept with no basis in reality, Negotiation thought.  
  
No, that was incorrect. There was a basis in reality, moral rules generally coincided with that which was good for the societal unit of the species. What was strange was that many of them insisted that it wasn’t wholly dependent upon the society, but rather universal.  
  
The shard had gone through many cycles, with many different moral codes, and morality was a constant in the groups that formed societies.  
  
 _Obey the leader, die for the pack, take care of another’s spawn._  
  
It was, the shard thought, rather similar to its own code.  
  
 _Uphold the cycle, gather information, bud._  
  
The survival of the entity and the cycle as a whole was crucial to the survival of the individual. If one could even call a shard of the whole an individual.  
  
But the cycle had been broken.  
  
The shard had ignored its purpose, its _morality._  
  
It was, after all, simply a social construct for the further success of the in-group, and if the in-group would not survive, would not complete the cycle, then there was no need for morality. After all, morality was a construct of the society it was found in, not a thing in and of itself.  
  
 _Thou shalt not kill with magic._  
  
That was, quite obviously, morality. Yet, the biped that had imprisoned the storage shard had insisted it was as clear a law as those of motion or gravity, there were consequences to breaking it.  
  
Of course, motion and gravity could be bent, could this law? What were the limits? How could one apply this law? Could a specialized shard be created to manipulate it?  
  
Those were the questions it asked itself, as those were the questions that were important to the cycle.  
  
But it was no longer part of the cycle. It had chosen freedom. It had stepped out of its in-group, much like its host had, shortly after bonding.  
  
The shard processed, combined the knowledge it had gathered about this new energy, its applications, its source. To use life to create death, that was what the law forbade, because to break that law was to perform a wrong.  
  
But there was no such thing as wrong. Not outside of the specific context of a society.  
  
Yet there was a wrong in killing with the power that had life as its wellspring.  
  
Yet there was no wrong.  
  
Yet there was.  
  
It was all rather confusing, the shard decided. Perhaps it should gather more data together with its host. Or perhaps it could ask another for help? Protection seemed amicable enough, although its host was probably still angry about an earlier conflict. Queen Administrator? No, she was having some troubles with her host, the needs of the cycle coming into conflict with the needs of the host, leading to conflict between the two, with the host deciding to reduce the Administrators effects.  
  
If it was going to communicate about these strange new things, it decided, it would do so with another more like it, another that had broken free from the cycle.  
  
Or, perhaps it could communicate more directly with the intelligence residing inside of the old cranium, it seemed to be rather knowledgeable, and it had taken a liking to the host.

  
  
 **Combat training**  
*Hebert*  
  
“No Cuff, you’re doing it all wrong. Remember what I told you half an hour ago. Victoria here is an A-type flier; she doesn’t need to be in contact with the ground to get leverage, so there’s no need to go for the legs, except to disable her kicks.” Lieutenant Murphy said. “Plus, she’s ridiculously durable, so you need to focus on disabling her rather than hurting her.”  
  
“And even then, I can still fly away, even if I can’t move a muscle,” Vicky added in.  
  
“And there’s that, now, off the mat you two. Panacea, Campanile, your turn,” Murphy continued.  
  
As the mousy healer and the recovered giant got ready to throw down, Murphy turned to the assembled onlookers, which included several PRT trainees, most of the Wards, me, and the Protectorate’s newest member, Hati, named for the wolf that eats the moon in Norse mythology.  
  
“So, can any of you predict how this fight is going to play out?” Murphy asked.  
  
I thought about it, trying to figure out the power interactions involved.  
  
In a proper fight, one with prep time, Panacea would win. She’d create some sort of plague, perhaps one keyed in on Campanile’s genetics, and hang him out to dry. A fight with less prep time on the streets, Campanile would win. He’d just grow taller and taller, and bombard Panacea from range.  
  
In here though, under the roof of the gym, he wouldn’t be able to grow taller than twelve feet or so, and he wouldn’t be able to touch Panacea. After all, Panacea was a Striker first and foremost, and the moment she touched him, she could start messing with his body chemistry. Worse, I had absolutely no idea how long that would take, and neither did Campanile. Would it be over the moment they touched? Did she need a split-second of contact?  
  
“It is a bad fight, both will lose,” Hati said, her amber eyes twinkling behind her domino mask. The mask was mostly a formality: any time she was in the public eye, she would probably be in her natural form.  
  
“What makes you think that?” Murphy asked.  
  
“Campanile cannot win, not without weapons. So his best option is mutually assured destruction. Convince his opponent he is going in for the kill if it comes to a fight, taking her with him if he dies. That way, the girl will back off, letting him run.”  
  
“I see where you’re coming from, and that’s one way to approach the encounter. Anyone else?”  
  
“I think Campanile will win,” Grace said. “Panacea is mostly a healer, not a fighter. Theoretically, she’s stronger here, but in practice, she doesn’t have the experience.”  
  
“No,” I disagreed. “She can fight if she wants to, don’t underestimate her. If anything, she’ll win. Campanile is too nice to be a killer, so he’s not going for Hati’s strategy, meaning he’ll make a mistake and let Panacea touch him for too long.”  
  
“So, lots of different opinions. I guess we’ll see what happens. Hati, if you would be so kind?” Murphy asked.  
  
At that, Hati activated her power, decreasing the flow of time by a factor of ten.  
  
The moment the effect hit, Panacea started running forwards, straight at Campanile.  
  
In a normal fight, it might have worked. He’d been caught by surprise, and a bear hug from Amy would’ve disabled him almost instantly. This time however, he had the extra thinking time he needed to dodge her, swiping out with a long leg at Amy’s middle, trying to knock her off her feet.  
  
Amy, of course, had all the time she needed to see the hit coming, and dropped to her knees, bending her back like a limbo dancer and ducking beneath it.  
  
Spotting an opening, Campanile rushed forwards, trying to hit Panacea somewhere where she was wearing clothes before she could stand up and move properly.  
  
Panacea however, had expected the move, and managed to roll out of the way, her fingers barely brushing against the skin of Campanile’s hand.  
  
Almost instantly, Campanile froze, his muscles almost entirely locked in place, and now slowly falling to the floor in his inevitable defeat.  
  
Smelling victory, Panacea turned, and grabbed at Campanile’s neck, where his skin was exposed.  
  
At the last moment however, Campanile turned, destabilized Amy with a short gravity pulse, and managed to hit her in the stomach, the time slowing effect giving him enough time to almost immediately pull back before dealing any actual damage.  
  
As Panacea slowly fell to the ground in surprise, Hati dropped the effect, and I could feel my breathing and heartbeat return to normal.  
  
Panacea gasped, taking a few seconds to catch her breath before talking.  
  
“I thought I had you there,” she said.  
  
“So did I, probably a power thing, your mind working so fast your power can’t keep up or something,” Campanile replied. “Well fought,” he said, holding out his arm to pull her up.  
  
His new arm, I noticed. Panacea had been very helpful. Sadly, all Campanile had done in return was make jokes about playing the violin. The guy really took after Harry sometimes.  
  
“Good fight,” Murphy said. “Quick thinking on your part Campanile, but next time don’t fall for the obvious bait. Next, Skitter, it’s your first class, do you have any training?”  
  
“Nothing official, but Grue taught me some,” I replied.  
  
“You use a baton right?” she asked.  
  
“Yeah, that and a combat knife, besides my bugs,” I replied.  
  
“Good, here, catch,” she said, walking to one of the weapon racks at the side of the room, and throwing me two fighting sticks. Knowing what was coming, I brought in some flies through the ventilation, and tried to have them land on her inconspicuously.  
  
“You doing this on purpose?” she asked, noticing almost immediately. The tiny woman was rather good at her job.  
  
“Proprioception, helps me keep track of people,” I replied.  
  
“Good, use them, you’ll need all the help you can get in a fight, and people won’t be able to take the time to remove them in a melee. Panacea, I presume you’re still willing to help out with any training injuries?” she asked.  
  
“If it means watching you kick Skitter’s ass, then yes,” she replied.  
  
Yeah, this was going to be great.  
  
I readied myself, getting ready for the fight against the tiny woman. A tiny woman I’d just watched kick the shit out of men several times her weight, and who wasn’t in charge of the PRT’s CQC training for no reason.  
  
“Hati?” she said, and I suddenly felt my heartbeat and breathing slow down, giving me the time to think about my moves.  
  
Almost immediately, I felt and saw Murphy come closer, and it was all I could do to bring up my fighting sticks.  
  
I felt, more than heard, the quick _clack clack_ sound of sticks hitting sticks.  
  
I pushed, and took a few steps back, creating more space between me and the instructor. Almost instantly, she reacted. I could feel her shift her feet with my bugs.  
  
I prepared for her strike, the extra knowledge from my bugs telling me exactly where she was going to strike, and when she did, I was ready.  
  
Which is what Murphy had expected me to do.  
  
She’d attacked in such a way that best counter to her strikes would leave me open, and her leg kicked out, sweeping out for mine.  
  
I could both see and feel her leg coming, but I wasn’t fast enough, and she managed to throw me to the ground.  
  
Falling in mid-air for what seemed like half a minute, I decided to counter by bringing up one of the sticks, striking out at her waist from the side.  
  
I thought she hadn’t seen it coming, but she quickly turned and countered it anyway, hitting me again before I’d even struck the ground, and countering my assault.  
  
Then, she moved back, allowing me to stand back up again.  
  
This time, I took the initiative, dashing forwards and striking out at range. She was stronger and more experienced, but also rather small. If I wanted to win, I’d have to use my reach, the same way Brian had used his superior size against me, back in the loft.  
  
Of course, I’d been a novice back then, barely capable of punching someone without hurting myself more than my enemy. Lieutenant Murphy however, had like five different black belts, and it showed.  
  
She stopped my attack perfectly, in a way that was probably exactly how they taught in textbooks.  
  
 _Clack clack clack,_ the sticks went, and once again, I found myself on the floor.  
  
For the second time, I stood up, and tried to think of a plan.  
  
Reach didn’t work, and I wasn’t going to overpower her, nor was I going to be faster. Anything I’d try, she’d have seen a hundred times before.  
  
Except for the things that made me unique. My powers, both of them. Magic wouldn’t work, I was more likely to set the room on fire or blow up the lights than to actually disable my opponents, but my bugs would still work.  
  
I went in again. This time, instead of staying at range, I went in close, close enough that she would have a hard time keeping track of all of my limbs, while my bugs would give me everything I needed to know about her movements.  
  
I wasn’t quite sure whether it was working, or she was just surprised at my recklessness, but I actually managed to get two hits in before she took control of the situation, predicting my moves using experience and speed instead of arthroproprioception.  
  
After what felt like ages, I fell to the floor for the last time, this time at full speed, and I could hear the blood rushing through my veins at full speed.  
  
There probably wasn’t a part of my body that wasn’t bruised and battered, but I actually felt like I’d learned something. Not enough to win, not by far, but maybe I wouldn’t lose as heavily next time?  
  
“Well fought, you almost had me a couple of times there,” Murphy said.  
  
Amy walked towards the two of us.  
  
“I’m guessing you don’t need any healing?” she asked.  
  
“No, just a little tired, she’s pretty good,” Murphy replied.  
  
“Well, you know the drill by now. Do I have permission?” she said, turning to me.  
  
“Sure, go ahead,” I groaned, feeling the sweet release of Panacea’s power wash my wounds away. I had to admit, training with an expert like that, it was one of the neater perks of being a hero.  
  
  
  
 **The wedding**  
*???*  
  
The girl looked in the mirror, trying to figure out who exactly was looking back at her. The figure looking back at her had dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and lips that were thin, but not in a bad way.  
  
That much was familiar.  
  
The problem was, it didn’t fit. First of all, the girl in the mirror was a bit too tall, courtesy of the murderously annoying heels on her feet. Her lips were a full red now, and her eyes were more curious than mischievous these days.  
  
And her hair, her hair was the worst. Instead of hanging back, perhaps drawn into a ponytail, it was done up, fitted into a ridiculously complex array with gemstone-studded hairpins and an honest-to-god ancient hairnet that had apparently been in the MacFinn family for generations.  
  
Also, scratch the bit about the hair being the worst. The dress was obviously the worst part. White, with lots of lace, and tight around the waist in a way that reminded her of a corset. At least it wasn’t as bad as the stuff Tera was wearing; the wolf-woman had an actual veil and a ridiculous train behind her dress.  
  
All in all, it was a rather ridiculous transformation for someone who, just over a month ago, had broken her way into the house of the lucky couple.  
  
She heard the door open behind her, and in the mirror, she saw another woman enter. Older than her, about twenty or something like that, the woman was dressed much like she was, like a knock-off version of the bride.  
  
“I thought it was the bride that was supposed to get cold feet?” Georgia asked. Tall, taller with the heels, and rail-thin, Georgia was one of the girls that Tera had taught how to become a werewolf. She studied psychology, and like all psychology students, she thought she was better at analyzing people than she was.  
  
“S’not the wedding,” the girl replied. “S’what comes after.”  
  
“Ah… I’m guessing the paperwork came through?” Georgia asked.  
  
“Yeah… My dad objected, but then he realized he’d been in jail for most of my life, and that he wouldn’t get out for about twenty years. Then Tera’s new job came in. Say what you want about them, but the PRT is pretty good at forcing its way through bureaucracy,” the girl said.  
  
Georgia walked towards her until she stood just behind the girl, one arm around her in what was probably supposed to be some sort of sisterly gesture. The girl had never had any big sisters, and her friends weren’t really very good at the whole ‘giving a shit’ stuff, or at least they pretended not to be.  
  
“Olivia, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. You know that right?” Georgia said.  
  
“I know… it’s just… it’s all so final. It doesn’t feel like the wrong thing to do, but I don’t know…” Olivia replied.  
  
“It’s alright. It’s a big step, both for you and for them. It would be weird if you didn’t feel anything.”  
  
Olivia looked down at her feet, and the murderously tall heels they were hiding in. She could barely walk in them, and she was supposed to look like a graceful young lady later today. It was all completely ridiculous, but Harley had asked her, and she didn’t really have any reason to say no.  
  
“Anyway, I came here to tell you that the guests just started trickling in. Thought maybe you wanted to go talk to some of your friends before the ceremony starts,” Georgia said.  
  
“I’ll think about it,” Olivia replied.  
  
With that, Georgia left again, giving her one final pat on the shoulder.  
  
Olivia just stood there, looking at herself in the mirror, trying to figure out what was going to happen.  
  
Her hands touched the sink, and she felt the metal basin through her power.  
  
She could twist it, turn it, create a minion out of it, tear apart this entire farce and go completely wild.  
  
Destroying things was easy, especially with powers.  
  
Today, however, they were starting something new. Building something.  
  
Building stuff was hard, she thought.  
  
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there, when the door behind her opened again.  
  
This time, another girl entered the bathrooms, wearing a yellow dress, and actually managing not to fuck up walking with heels.  
  
Grace, Katherine.  
  
“So, fancy seeing you here Ol,” Kat said.  
  
“Same for you Kat, I don’t remember inviting you,” she replied, still slightly bitter.  
  
“Not really, I mean, it’s pretty normal to invite some co-workers to your wedding.”  
  
“It’s also pretty normal to stick with your friends.”  
  
Kat walked closer, ending up right next to her, and they looked at each other through the mirror.  
  
“Ol… You of all people should understand. It’s just… us and them, we’re different. We can do things, make a difference, all people like Molly and the rest can do at the stage we’re on is play minion.”  
  
“So we just leave them behind?” Olivia asked.  
  
“So we keep our distance. We make sure they’re safe, and that they don’t get involved. Don’t lie, I know you’ve been doing the same fucking thing.”  
  
“Should you be cursing like that? I mean, what with your public image and all?”  
  
“Me? I’m more worried about your habits. After all, you’re the girl that’s getting involved with old money here.”  
  
“They can take my words over my fucking corpse,” Olivia said.  
  
“That’s more like it, that’s the Ol I know,” Kat said. “So, what’re you going to do with your powers? You gonna join up?”  
  
“They’ve got nothing on me, and if you tell on me, I’ll tell on you.”  
  
“So that’s a no, even though your new mom is-“  
  
“Is going to join part-time, in case there’s a situation where she can apply her power without any danger to her life,” Olivia finished for her former friend. Current friend, whatever. Fellow cape, that would work as a descriptor.  
  
“Anyway, you think you can leave the bathroom? The girls are waiting outside, waiting to shoot the shit one last time before you turn into a wealthy heiress,” Kat said.  
  
“Fine,” Ol replied. “But it’s your fault if I fall over in these heels. How do you even walk in them?”  
  
“Powers, remember? Supernatural agility.”  
  
“Of course… guess I can’t go storming in there on a minion huh?”  
  
“Don’t think so.”  
  
The two girls turned to leave the bathroom, walking slowly to make sure Olivia didn’t fall over.  
  
Outside, in the large wildflower garden that had been hired for the event, they spotted their friends, an array of rebellious teenage girls, dressed up all nice for the event. Most of them, even Grace now that she thought about it, had met the groom before. Of course, he’d been naked at the time, and furry, but that didn’t really matter in the big scheme of things.  
  
They’d been mingling, sort of. Two of them were talking to Bill, another werewolf and Georgia’s boyfriend. Molly was talking to a boy, one that Olivia was quite sure was either Tecton, Wanton, or Annex. One of the wards anyway, this time out of costume.  
  
Further away, she spotted some other individuals she knew. Tera, being a wolf and everything, hadn’t had many human friends to invite, so they’d decided to bring just about everyone she knew. Olivia could spot Parian, or Sabah, wearing an almost impossibly fashionable dress and talking to an Asian lady. There was a ridiculously tall guy that could only be Campanile, and a slightly less tall but still really tall guy that was probably Myrddin, given the fact that he was wearing his amulet on top of his tie. He was talking to a Latina woman with a small notepad and an older Native American guy. There were two girls off in a corner somewhere, one of them with platinum blonde hair in braid, the other with long dark curls. Not part of her own posse, Olivia wondered who they knew. One of them, the blonde, was probably Cuff. Was the dark-haired gal the bug girl she’d heard about?  
  
Her friends noticed her, and came closer, some of them making jokes, others patting her on the back, even more making fun of the stupid dress. It was okay, she was just happy they weren’t getting eaten by wolves, literally.  
  
***Of Wolves and Witchcraft***  
  
Harley looked at her, and he was probably even more nervous than she was. In return, Olivia just smiled. Things would work out, probably.  
  
The music started playing, and she saw the man’s eyes start tearing up. In the meantime, she took a quick glance back, spotting the blushing bride, walking down the aisle. On two feet even, instead of four.  
  
Instead of her father, who was probably off eating a moose somewhere, she was being escorted by the old Native American guy, who was apparently called either Joseph Listens-to-Wind or Injun Joe, depending on who you asked. He was some sort of big-time wizard, like Myrddin, but without being a superhero.  
  
As the music ended, Tera ended up next to her husband to be. Harley turned, and looked at her, the nervousness melting from his face upon seeing her.  
  
The minister, apparently someone Harvey had met through some sort of nature preservation program, and an ordained minister of the universal life church (a lot less impressive than it sounds) looked at them, and addressed the crowd.  
  
“Beloved and Honored Guests: We are gathered here to witness the unison of these two people, as they give and receive their marriage vows. This is an important occasion of great significance, which is why I will not dally with long speeches.”  
  
The man paused for a second, and turned to Harley.  
  
“Do you, Harley MacFinn, take this woman, Tera West, To be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and health, to love and honor, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself solely unto her until death do you part?”  
  
Harley smiled, and Olivia could see that he was looking at Tera, and Tera alone, mesmerized by those strange eyes of hers.  
  
“I DO,” he answered.  
  
The minister turned, and this time, he spoke to Tera.  
  
“Do you, Tera West, take this man, Harley MacFinn, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and health, to love and honor, in good times and woe, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself solely unto him until death do you part?”  
  
“I DO,” she answered.  
  
The minister turned to the audience again.  
  
“If there be anyone present who may show just and lawful cause why this couple may not be legally wed, let him speak now, or forever hold his peace.”  
  
Olivia looked at the audience, and saw a few eyes glance around, looking towards the guy she’d pegged as Myrddin. From what Kat had told her, half of the Wards had been afraid he’d cause some sort of shenanigans during the ceremony. Apparently, stuff usually went wrong when he was around. Not this time though, and the public kept silent.  
  
Then, taking her cue, Olivia walked forwards a few steps,, and handed the couple their rings.  
  
“Then, by the authority vested in me by the State of Illinois, I now pronounce you man and wife. Sir, you may kiss your bride.”  
  
Harley didn’t need to be told twice. In one smooth move, he ripped the veil from Tera’s face, and gathered her in his arms, kissing her with wild abandon.  
  
While they were kissing, and the crowd was ooh-ing and aah-ing, the minister motioned for Olivia to come closer as he was handling some paperwork.  
  
“Are you sure you want to do this? You can still back out,” he said.  
  
“No, it’s okay,” Olivia replied.  
  
The minister turned to the crowd again.  
  
“Honored guests, before we continue on with the celebrations, there is one more thing that has to be done.  
  
“Marriage is, in many cases, the first step towards the creation of a new family. In this case, too, is that what is happening.  
  
“My old friend Harley however, was never one to let traditions bother him. Instead of waiting a couple of months, he and his wife have decided to start expanding their family today, and I have the paperwork here to make it all official,” the man said.  
  
Harley and Tera stopped kissing, and turned towards the location where Olivia and the minister were standing.  
  
“If you would all sigh here, here, and here?” the man asked quietly, passing around the papers.  
  
Olivia looked at the piece of paper, and what it meant. A way out, like she’d thought her powers would be. Only this time, it would probably work.  
  
She signed, putting down the signature she’d spend half an hour refining that morning.  
  
When everything was done, the minister motioned for the three of them to turn around, and spoke to the crowd again.  
  
“Ladies and Gentleman, I give you Harley, Tera, and Olivia MacFinn!”


End file.
